


A Faint Feeling

by Mistressaq



Category: RuPaul's Drag Race RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Historical, Alternate Universe - Victorian, F/F, F/M, Female Friendship, Fingerfucking, Orgasms, Sexy Times
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-01-15
Updated: 2018-12-24
Packaged: 2019-03-05 07:43:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 26,421
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13383288
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mistressaq/pseuds/Mistressaq
Summary: Unhappily married Victorian noblewoman, Violet, loves a party and adores attention. Frequently over-corseted, the lady retires to her Fainting Parlor, where she eagerly awaits the tender yet vigorous hands of her attending midwife, Ginevra ‘Jinkx’ Monsoon.





	1. The Parlor

**Author's Note:**

> Reference:  
> Womb- old timey way for people to refer to lady parts. All the lady parts, not just the uterus.  
> Rotten- 1800’s slang for ‘drunk’  
> In the 1800s, it was widely believed that women suffered from Female Hysteria. Symptoms included fainting and ‘various urges of the sexual variety’, among other things. The main treatment for Female Hysteria was, if you could afford it, Vigorous Pelvic Massage, administered by an attending doctor/midwife.

The ginger woman watched from the wings in her servant's uniform: her simple skirts and apron, three-quarter sleeves that were less modest than required by fashion, but altogether necessary given her occupation. Jinkx fidgeted from one foot to the other, insecurity wafting off her like she suspected the still-lingering scent of birth and barn. Lady Violet had laughed at her earlier that day when she had returned from a call as to a sow struggling in the barns. Jinkx had gone red with embarrassment — she had been in the muck for hours; the poor sow ended up with twelve piglets to feed. 

_Lady Violet, for all her teasing, was still kind, and offered a dab of her own strongest perfume to help mask the odor. After, of course, Jinkx relieved the Lady’s built up feminine humors. Violet had stopped her halfway through, unable to concentrate on relaxing during the treatment for the smell. “I cannot build to the ecstacy of relief when I am trying only to breathe through my mouth and yet can still taste the barn on your clothes!” insisted the duchess._

_Jinkx had been mortified, tripping over her words and herself on her way out. The Lady grabbed her before she could depart and glared into Jinkx’ eyes. As the midwife prepared to be struck, Violet scoffed. “Oh don’t be ridiculous.”_

_The Duchess pulled Jinkx by her forearm over to her vanity. Jinkx opened her eyes just then when she realized her superior wasn’t going to hit her. Violet grabbed at a short vial and unscrewed the crystalline cap. Jinkx couldn't help but see the Baroque light fixtures of the parlor reflected and spinning in the crystal. It was almost dizzying. The Duchess dipped a finger into the vial, then went about tapping the strong smelling liquid onto Jinkx’ wrists and forearms. The midwife’s mouth popped open when Violet brazenly tapped her fingers to Jinkx’ tender neck._

_The Duchess scoffed a laugh again, and though she sounded like any haughty noblewoman Jinkx had tended to, Violet was entirely different._

_“What?” questioned Violet. “Does my touching your neck intrude on your modesty?” Jinkx blushed. The Duchess laughed haughtily again, though this time it was more genuine. “Until two minutes ago you were titillating my womb and now a tap on your neck brings forth a blush?”_

. 

The Duchess was like that. Well, in fact, that title alone was not altogether correct. Jinkx’ mistress’ full official title was Her Royal Highness Princess Violet Ursula Chachki, Duchess of Geneva. It had been a scandal when, after over a year of courtship, Violet insisted it be written into her marriage agreement that she keep her name and titles. Jinkx had even heard her say once ‘I will not dilute myself to becoming little more than a common duchess!’ 

Jinkx remembered hiding her cackle behind the guise of a sneeze when she’d overheard The Princess Duchess say so. She had hidden herself after the slip, but she caught Violet smirking at her in a mirror as she left. 

Only a Princess could act as Violet did, only someone with blood so rich and holy could get away with her swift and pointed tongue. The Princess Duchess would fire off at the mouth like a snake striking at prey: quick, direct, and elegant. She would utter a phrase so quickly and with such poise that the subject would rarely recognize a hint of rudeness in the message until many minutes later, by which time the conversation will have moved on. The sheer daring of her amazed and enraptured countless people, and Jinkx was no exception. 

As she watched the Princess Duchess glide across the floor with ease and elegance, Jinkx tried to riddle out if she had ever felt this way before. And surely, after almost a full year of Duchess being added to her title, ten months of Jinkx tending to Violet and counselling her on marital duties, ten months of watching from the shadows… shouldn’t the princess’ magic have worn off by now? 

. 

Jinkx kept watch of the grandfather clock at the back of the ballroom. Sure enough, two hours into the event, Violet closed her eyes and fanned herself. She reached for her head and said something to her dance partner, who fetched a chair. Jinkx smoothed her skirt and rubbed the back of her neck. She had to wait to be called for. 

Violet’s eyelids fluttered and she pointed in Jinkx’ direction. The servant imagined her voice dithery, ‘I need my midwife’. 

Robert, her footman, was at her side at an instant, his dark brown hand gripping her at the waist and helping her lean on him. Jinkx heard mutterings of ‘catching disease in her weakened state’ and felt her temper broil. But such whispers never once bothered Her Highness; talk of disease and the subhumanism of other races seemed to bounce off Violet. She never failed to surround herself with all sorts of color, in her outfits and her attendants. Out of Violet’s five ladies-in-waiting, three were dark-skinned, and all very different from each other. 

The strongest of the Ladies, Lady Jaidynn, took the Princess Duchess in her arms as if she weighed no more than a feather. The other Ladies formed a protective barrier as they led Jaidynn out to the corridor that led to Violet’s beloved Fainting Parlour. Jinkx followed, uttering a sigh of relief. Parties became very dull once Violet left the room. 

. 

The moment Her Highness was carried through the door, Violet perked up, as per usual. Jaidynn lowered her to the floor, allowing Violet to walk herself over to her chaise. 

“I will be standing guard should you need me, ma’am,” said Robert the footman in his scratchy baritone. 

One of Violet’s ladies thanked him and closed the door behind her. Lady Farrah, Jinkx believed. Violet only had two light-complected Ladies -- Farrah and Maxine -- and they were fairly easy to tell apart by stature, and also by fashion. Farrah had a love of pink dyes and feather accessories, while Maxine (or ‘Max’, as she preferred) enjoyed furs and tight-fitting gowns, forsaking a hoopskirt when she could. Max pulled off into a corner of the parlour and reached for a novel she’d tucked away for entertainment during Violet’s fainting occasions. 

Ladies Tatianna and Naomi kneeled behind Violet and went to loosening her corset for her. Her Highness was known for her incredibly thin waist, but to achieve such an hourglass figure required the assistance of at least two dedicated women. With every extra inch of room in her middle, Violet breathed deeper. “Oh, I could not wait for this -- that ambassador was making me wish I had worn an arsenic dress.” 

“Really?” questioned Farrah. “You seemed to enjoy his company.” 

Violet rolled her eyes. “He’s the only decent dancer in that hall. But a conversationalist he is not.” Her Highness rolled her shoulders and waved off her ladies. “Midwife, I’m ready for you.” 

Jinkx had been sitting on her hands to warm them up. She knew the duchess detested cold hands. Violet lay back on the chaise and hiked up her skirts to allow Jinkx access. Jinkx pulled a bottle of oil from her medical bag and allowed Violet to smell it; after a nod from Violet, Jinkx applied the liquid to her right hand and rubbed the moisture in. All the Ladies but Max went to talking quietly amongst themselves while Jinkx began treating Her Highness. 

Jinkx lightly rubbed the duchess’ inner thighs and felt her relax beneath her. She hated skipping right to the treatment -- it was so intimate, medically necessary, yes, but intimate. Jinkx knew practitioners who went straight into the massage with no leadup, and it took the charges twice as long to reach relief when they did so. Slowly, Jinkx petted Lady Chachki’s womb, and felt it saturate and warm to her touch. 

Violet sighed. “I wonder if you were this gentle with the pig.” 

Jinkx chuckled and transitioned into the proper massage, circling her fingers around Violet’s opening, waiting for her to relax further into the treatment. “I wouldn't dare give an animal such treatment,” said Jinkx. “Besides, the poor sow had endured enough prodding from strangers by the time I was called.” 

She pushed a finger into Violet and the lady sighed beneath her. “I can hardly imagine,” Violet murmured. “How many piglets? Eleven?” 

“Twelve,” corrected Jinkx, rubbing her submerged finger against Violet’s inner walls. The duchess’ body responded welcomingly. “Speaking of,” Jinkx began. 

Violet sighed petulantly and squeezed her eyes shut. “Not this again.” 

Jinkx smiled. “I’m only trying to say…” 

“I know exactly what you’re trying to say, Ginevra,” Violet fretted. “It’s the same thing I hear from every wife in every conversation. They hardly have anything else to talk about.” She threw her hand across the edge of the chaise. “Childbearing.” 

Jinkx involved her second hand in her work, rubbing soft circles into the duchess’ lower belly, easing the new tension from the uncomfortable conversation. Violet did relax under Jinkx’ experienced touch. 

A few minutes passed where the only sound was the gossiping of the Ladies-in-waiting. Violet let her eyes glaze over while she stared up at the baroque frescoed ceiling, her midwife’s touch the only thing she felt. Her focus broke when a moan made its way up her throat. She looked back down at her attending midwife, who herself was meditating on the patterns of Violet’s satin underskirt. 

Violet suppressed another groan for the good of her ladies, but found herself having difficulty catching a breath. Her breasts strained against her dress, and suddenly she wished for her days in Budapest where she lived in the nude and bathed unfettered in the natural hot springs, cavorting with Hungarians. 

Violet’s breath hitched, and she felt her relief on the horizon. Jinkx knew it too, and quickened her pace, gripping and massaging Violet’s womb, inside and out. Violet covered her mouth before she felt relief wash over her, knowing if she did not contain herself, she would scream and embarrass all in the parlor. 

Jinkx pulled her hands away from Violet and went to righting Her Highness’ skirts, pulling her stained underthings down for modesty’s sake so she could recover and prepare to rejoin the festivities in the ballroom. The midwife went to grab her bag and leave, only for her charge to grab her by the wrist. 

“Stay,” said Violet. 

Jinkx stopped moving, and tried to riddle out wether that had just been an order or not. She sat at Her Highness’ feet on the chaise and waited for her to catch her breath. 

Violet swallowed and breathed as deeply as she was able. “I say,” she began, her voice light and feathery. “How can I think of childbearing, when my husband never fails to be unsatisfactory in our marriage bed, and your treatments provide me no end of…” she sighed, “Satisfaction.” 

Jinkx swallowed with some difficulty and looked away. “I would say,” she cleared her throat. “That the nuns who taught me my craft… told the dissatisfied mothers that… the marriage bed is a duty.” 

Violet sighed. “So the husband is the only participant expected to enjoy the practice?” 

Jinkx shrugged. “I can only speak so far as dealings I have had with other wives and from my own experience, but I will say that you are not the only woman to have struggled with fulfilling a wife’s duty.” 

Violet looked at Jinkx with a curious expression. “Do _you_ find it difficult?” she asked. “In your marriage?” 

Jinkx fidgeted, suddenly uncomfortable. 

“It’s just,” Violet covered. “I’ve seen you wearing a band on your wedding finger -- you take it off to do my treatments.” 

Jinkx glanced back at the desk-drawer that held her bag. The Duchess was right; Jinkx had taken her ring off to administer treatments, she just assumed Violet had not been watching her. Why would she? “I…” her voice trailed off, at a loss for words. “My dear Henry, God rest his soul…” Jinkx couldn’t look at Violet. She cleared her throat. “Henry and I… we had a loving marriage. For three years… we were happy.” 

“I am sorry to make you relive sad events,” said Violet softly. Jinkx dabbed her eyes. “I was unaware of your pain. You still wear your wedding band.” 

Jinkx squared her shoulders and pushed her feelings down. “I do, my lady. You are very observant.” She cleared her throat again. “And it was not all pain. I was blessed with two beautiful children because of my marriage.” 

“Two?” Echoed Violet. “In three years, you really didn’t have trouble.” 

Jinkx nodded. “I do not wish to speak more of it now.” She stood up from the chaise to retrieve her bag. 

Violet reluctantly sat up and beckoned her ladies over to help her redress for the party. “I don’t want to go back to the ballroom,” she whined. “They will be insufferable until everyone is absolutely rotten!” 

“We can keep you company if the guests are really that boring,” offered Lady Tatianna. She lowered her voice and leaned over the duchess’ shoulder. “And I can tell you about my correspondence with my Russian general.” 

Violet and the other ladies oohed and made little sounds of excitement. Jinkx smiled to herself. Lady Tatianna and her Russian General was the preferred distraction from noble life for the ladies. In fact, their correspondence seemed worthy of a romantic novel. The General sent a letter to Lady Tatianna by mistake, and she wrote back humorously setting him straight that she was not, in fact, a battle strategist, and did not know who The General was trying to make contact with. She advised General Zamolodchikova to write his letter again, and address it properly this time. All this she wrote in her best attempt at Russian script, as the original postage had been written in Russian. 

To Lady Tatianna’s surprise, her letter back was not the end of it -- the general wrote her back to commend her on her wit and her Russian, and to apologise for the inconvenience. He asked where she had learned the language. Lady Tatianna wrote back that she had been entertained by his letter, and that she had learned a number of languages from a number of tutors, as a result of being under the employ of a frequently travelling princess. She commended him on his script, adding that most military men had dreadful penmanship. They continued to write back and forth like this for years, and their correspondence never grew dull. The General never failed to make Tatianna laugh, and Tatianna never failed to dazzle him with her words. 

Only after Princess Violet’s prodding had Tatianna asked for a lithograph or a sketch of her post mate. She sent one of herself, but feared that her General would dislike the look of her, perhaps off put by her natural coloring, and never write again. Violet and the other ladies pressed Tatianna that she not powder her skin and put up a false look for her general. If years worth of winning him over with her intellect could be forgotten due to dark skin, they argued he was not worth the postage she had spent. 

The general did respond, and with great candor and flattery. He lauded her for her looks and remarked that it was frankly unfair for one woman to have so many excellent qualities. General Zamolodchikova did respond with a sketch of himself, done, he clarified, by a proper sketch artist known for honest, if unflattering, depictions of the human face. Lady Tatianna was enthralled by the likeness, for the general’s face was young and symmetrical, his teeth straight and white, his eyes light blue and his form strong. The general in his letter was demure and rather insecure of himself, claiming his hips were too broad and his stature disappointing, for he was well under six feet tall. The two continued sharing letters, depicting mundanity and philosophical ramblings and poetry and humorous anecdotes with a deep understanding. More recently, the lady had been reading only sections of her letters aloud to her friends, keeping the rest of the letters for only her eyes, she said, ‘for the purposes of modesty’. It was because of this that all in her company knew Lady Tatianna would surely receive a proposal by post any day. 

Violet settled back into her sofa. “All right then, I’ve decided I am not re-joining the party until Tati shares the next chapter of her love life.” She addressed the lady in question. “Go.” Tatianna reached into her corset and pulled out a piece of folded parchment. “I only started reading it last night, but I became so excited I could not allow myself to continue. I tried again this morning but,” she called over to her fellow Lady. “Max, be a dear and do some reading aloud for us?” 

Max clapped her novel shut and slid it back into its’ hiding place. “Princess Violet may need to help me with a few more complicated words,” she said, walking over to join her friends by the chaise. “I never did take to Russian as well as either of you.” 

“So be it.” Violet passed Max the envelope Tatianna had kept so close to her bosom. Max screwed her face up. “It’s warm.” The other ladies giggled. 

Jinkx really should have been going to rejoin the rest of the servants, but the promise of more tales from Lady Tati’s letters was too much temptation to resist. Of course, Violet noted the midwife’s delayed departure, and beckoned her over to listen in. Jinkx hardly knew what had come over her that she failed to turn down an invitation at inside gossip concerning the love life of a lady-in-waiting. It was hardly proper. Yet there she sat. 

Max took one look at the letter and shook her head. “Do you know, I actually have not read any Russian in years.” She passed the parchment back to Violet. “Good luck.” Violet rolled her eyes and cleared her throat. She translated while she read, adding articles for better understanding, especially for Jinkx’ benefit, as a servant was unlikely to know anything about how rough the Russian language sounded when translated. 

_My Beloved Tatianna_  
_You have been the light of my life for many full years now. I was a child when I mistakenly sent my first letter, and you a young lady. Months pass where I check my mail and my heart flutters with the thought that one of the letters may be yours, for I yearn always to read them. Your letters have lifted my spirits in no shortage of hard times, times when I thought all was lost for me. I reread your letters -- for I have them all saved -- in times of unending boredom, and I pour over your phrasing like a scholar over scripture. I feel you know more of my soul than even my closest friends. Perhaps the same is true for yourself, but I cannot know. Your photograph follows me in my breast pocket through every meeting and every battle. I look at you every night before I fall asleep and every morning when I wake. It is shameful how I have never told you exactly how I feel._  
_Recently, a close friend of mine perished suddenly in battle. He was planning on marrying his sweetheart back home. It was his death that prompted all this. I cannot go to the Great Beyond, be I destined for Heaven or Hell, without having you know how much I care for you. All this has been a meandering way of asking for your hand--_

A happy scream rippled through the room. Jinkx felt her joy rise with the ladies’. Tatianna's smile took up half of her face, and her thin kohl eye lines dripped down her cheeks. Jinkx felt something akin to the joy of a birth, the happy tears that follow those tears of anguish. The happiness that erases all pain. 

Violet waved her hand. “Quiet, you all,” she snapped. “There is more.” 

“More?” Tatianna echoed weakly. 

Violet continued. 

_All this has been a meandering way of asking for your hand. My Dearest Tatianna, I know you have known sorrow, and I am aware of what may befall us for what we have between us. People will stare, my pale hand holding your dark one, but I give no credit to those who would abuse us, judge our feelings for each other. I promise, I would protect you from that. At least I would do the best in my ability, as we cannot change every prejudiced mind we come into contact with._

Tatianna was properly crying, weeping into her handkerchief. Lady Jaidynn rubbed Tatianna’s back and purred soothingly.  


_I find myself searching for more words, but they elude me. I love you. I want to be your husband. I believe that is everything of importance. Please reply at your first convenience. Rather, do so at your first inconvenience, as I think the wait may kill me._  
_Yours,_  
_Burian Zamolodchikova_

“Yes!” cried Tatianna. “Yes, of course the answer is yes!” she shakily rose to her feet and looked feverishly around the room. “I need-- I need a pen and-and-and paper. I must…” 

Jinkx rose and held Tatianna around the waist to steady the poor girl. She looked rather faint herself. 

Violet stood and joined Tatianna at her other side. “I will write to the general on your behalf. I will use my own postage so the message will reach him faster. You should go to your chambers and try to rest. Jinkx, do you think she needs a treatment?” 

Jinkx thought about it. “I am not certain, but I will stay with the lady if you wish, your highness.” She felt a pull deep inside. It was getting late; Lil and Henry II would wonder where she was… 

Violet stepped around Tatianna and pecked Jinkx on the cheek. “Thank you.” 

Jinkx blinked about ten times in a row. “You… you are welcome, princess.” She came to her senses. “It is my duty. I will care for Lady Tatianna. Enjoy the rest of the festivities for the night.” 

Jinkx walked Tatianna through a secret passageway, her mind abuzz from the kiss of one Princess Duchess of Geneva.


	2. Caveat

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Violet calls Jinkx to her private bedchambers. Violet has a caveat for allowing Tatianna to marry.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Reference:  
> Womb— old timey way of referring to ALL lady parts not just the uterus  
> Magazines— did exist in the time period but they were more like catalogs

Jinkx kissed her daughter’s hands. Lil winced in pain; her little hands were raw and cracked. They bled in certain spots and her mother hated it. Jinkx had never envisioned this for her baby, her firstborn. Lillian had only seen five winters come and go, and already she had to be put to work in the estate’s laundry. It was bad enough most of the other servants considered Jinkx ‘unclean’ for the intimate work she did, refusing to allow her to luncheon with them. That she could take, but Lil…

Jinkx held her daughter close and whispered into the girl’s little ear. “Someday soon, it will be better. Someday soon I will receive enough wages to set you free. You’ll play among other children, and be as carefree as the wind.” Jinkx felt wetness gather at the sides of her eyes. She touched the wedding band on her finger. _Henry, how could you do this to us? How could you leave?_

Henry II jumped on his cushion, tipping sideways and onto the stone floor. He fussed briefly, before hauling himself onto his front, and pushing himself up to stand. Jinkx’ heart ached. How her husband would have loved seeing his son grow and become strong. She regretted Henry II didn’t resemble as much of his father as Lillian did. Lil had inherited her father’s golden blonde hair and olive complexion, even her nose resembled her father. But Henry II, that boy had Ginevra’s own red hair, pale skin and light dusting of freckles. Thankfully, when she looked into his eyes, she still had something left of her husband in their clearest blue.

“Mama, they hurt,” said Lillian, looking sadly at her injured and dry hands. 

Jinkx bit her lip. She knew of some salves, but they took time to prepare, and she wanted her children in bed soon. Any pre-made ointment would cost more than she could afford. Her hand raised to the rosary she wore around her neck and under her clothes at all times. _Please_ , she prayed, not even sure what it was she asked for.

A knock came at the thin wooden door. “Midwife?” shouted a loud masculine voice. 

Jinkx felt her spirit droop. All she wanted was to be with her children. But perhaps there was a birth she hadn’t known was coming. That might pay enough to give little Lil’s hands a chance to heal. She rose and opened the door. 

She was greeted by Robert the footman in his evening uniform. “Evening, Ginevra,” he greeted. 

Jinkx nodded. She’d told him to greet her as ‘Jinkx’ half a dozen times, and Robert never had. She folded her arms across her chest. “Robert, good evening. How may I be of assistance?”

“Lady of the house wishes to see you in her private bedchambers, ma’am.”

Jinkx’ eyes widened. Suddenly the butterflies returned to her belly. “Oh,” she said in amazement. 

“Do you know where Her Highness’ bedchambers are located?” he asked.

Jinkx shook her head. “No, I do know where but… it is late, is it not?” She turned around to glance at her young children. 

“Reckon it’s nearing midnight, ma’am,” answered Robert. He tilted his head to the side to get a better look into Jinkx’ quarters. “She requests you as soon as possible. I have the remainder of the night off, if you wish I can look after the little ones.”

Jinkx felt a rush of warmth. “ _Would_ you? Oh, I would be eternally grateful.”

“Of course,” said the footman. “Children adore me. But I do have one requirement.”

Jinkx’ shoulders slumped only a little. “Name it.”

The footman smiled, revealing a row of pearly white teeth behind his midnight skin. “Call me Bob.”

The midwife chuckled. “Only if you agree to call me Jinkx.”

“I still think that is an awful nickname.”

“I prefer it to Ginevra.” She extended her hand. “Do we have an agreement?”

Bob took her hand in his own and shook. Jinkx excused herself to seek out her midwife’s bag, but Bob stopped her. “You shan’t be needing that,” he said. “Her Highness says she merely wishes to talk with you.”

Jinkx’ face fell. “Oh dear.”

Bob clicked his tongue. “Do not look so dour, she seemed pleasant enough ten minutes ago. Though, we both know the duchess to have a lack of patience, so you had better be quick about it.”

_____  
Jinkx found Her Highness seated in bed, reading what at first she thought was a magazine, but upon further inspection realized was a French political pamphlet by bright candlelight.

Jinkx hesitated at the door, but Violet offered a ‘come hither’ gesture, and the servant approached. Swiping a curl of hair from her cheek, Jinkx cleared her throat. “You called for me, Your Highness?”

Violet offered a staccato “Yes,” and patted the side of her bed.

Jinkx shrank back from the grandeur of the clean silk decoration on the duchess’ bed covers. They matched her indigo canopy perfectly. “I couldn’t,” said Jinkx softly. 

Violet gazed up from her pamphlet. Her brown eyes burned gold in the warm light. “Why?”

Jinkx knitted her fingers together, looking away. Somehow the two of them alone felt… dangerous. She swallowed. “My nightdress is… too plain. Such ornamentation should only be accompanied by silk or… other such fine fabrics. I will stand.”

“If you prefer to stand…” Violet let her voice trail off, sultry vibrato ticking Jinkx’ bones.

She felt the duchess’ eyes on her, and she felt so naked. Jinkx shook some sense into her head. “Your Highness, if you wouldn’t mind telling me why you needed me at this hour of the night?”

Violet clapped her pamphlet shut and stowed the parchment in an ornate rosewood drawer. “If I am to be completely honest with you, Miss Monsoon, I do not need your services as a midwife tonight.”

“Oh.” Jinkx’ voice colored with disappointment.

Violet sat back against her cushions, her headboard carved full of fleur-des-lis, butterflies and doves. The varnished wood reflected the warm glow of the candles, making the animals seem almost alive. “I called upon you because I wish to speak with you as a worker.”

Jinkx blinked. “Oh?”

Violet drew a clean, deep breath, a feat only possible at bedtime, when her body was free of her corset. “Do you know what I was just reading?”

Jinkx raised an eyebrow. “A French pamphlet?”

“Yes,” answered the princess-duchess. “What do you know of France?”

The midwife felt as if she were back with the nuns; she prepared herself for a smack should she answer incorrectly. Jinkx swallowed. “It had some war and conquest going on. A general seized power from the sacred monarchs.”

Violet made a face and Jinkx prepared for criticism, but it did not come. Instead, Lady Violet spoke in a kind voice. “You are somewhat right, at least. All that with the monarchs was decades ago. There’s been several revolutions since then, one led by General Napoleon Bonaparte.” 

The way she pronounced his name made Jinkx believe her pronunciation was impeccable, even though she would not have been able to tell if Her Highness were speaking French or Dutch.

The princess-duchess continued. “The most recent man in power was Napoleon III, who is the general’s nephew.”

Jinkx nodded. The way Violet explained history was so simple, she felt she could tell Bob about this and not forget. This was nothing like how the nuns taught Jinkx and the other orphans about the mighty crusades. 

“What I was reading just now, Jinkx,” she continued. “Says that Napoleon III has now been forced to flee after yet another uprising. Can you believe it is nearly forty years since France has had a monarch?”

“How awful.” Jinkx’ hand rested over where her cross rested under her nightgown. “How do the people know their rulers have their best intentions of they are not chosen by God to rule? Just anyone could rise to the head of nation.”

Violet tilted her head and seemed in deep thought. 

Jinkx found herself fidgeting, remembering Henry II and Lil. “Your Highness, what has all this about France got to do with anything? Not that it isn’t interesting.” Jinkx cursed her sleepy tongue for being so loose. She felt her neck and face grow warm.

“My point is,” began Violet. “So much is written about those who rule, as if they are the only ones who matter. I am tired of reading about the exploits of the wealthy and aristocratic. You were taught your craft by nuns? How interesting must that have been?”

Jinkx’ brows knitted together. “My Lady, I am not sure I understand.”

Violet threw off her covers and leapt to her feet. She reached for Jinkx’ hands and found them warm. Tucking her own palm between both of Jinkx’, she said “I want you to tell me all the things I do not know about you. Midwifery. The nunnery. Your late husband -- all of it.”

Jinkx felt all the stress of the day weigh down on her legs. Now her Lady was asking her to stay up extra late and tell stories. “I don’t know if I can tonight, Your Highness.”

Violet gave her no choice. Pulling Jinkx to the side, she forced the servant to lie on the bed with her. “Tell me one story. Any one of your choice. From your life, no fairy stories.” Violet looked at Jinkx with intent. 

“But _why_?” questioned Jinkx.

“ _Because_ , monarchy is _dying_ , Ginevra!” 

Jinkx was stunned into silence. 

Violet brought her fist down on her side of the feather mattress. “I _must_ know the kind of struggles I will need to endure should an uprising send me into exile, my _family_ , do you understand?” 

The urgency in Her Highness’ voice struck Jinkx to her very core. All she wanted was to comfort her Lady. And if telling her stories was the way to do that… 

Jinkx settled back against the headboard and prepared to tell the princess-duchess everything. 

_~~~  
Sometimes people drop off unwanted babies on doorsteps. To churches, cathedrals, monasteries, convents. These children are raised in droves by the pious who have a calling from God to educate those born into nothing, not even a family name. I was not one of those children._

_I had a family. I do not remember them well, but they raised me and my brothers and sisters. I remember around eight people living in our house, Mama, Papa, and my siblings. I have vague memory that perhaps there were others, older kids who did not live with us. But there were eight crosses hammered into the ground that summer._

_A plague swept through our village. I do not remember much other than the swallowing of my mother’s skin, my father’s big hands, the skin thin. There was a baby, too._

_I do not know how or why I was spared. I do not know who found me before they burned the house down with all their bodies inside. But I watched the burn from a knothole in the barn. They put me in that barn for a fortnight, waiting to see if I would show signs of the sickness. I did not._

_The village was crippled after the plague. Crops had died and cattle run off with so few healthy to keep up chores. Those still surviving ran off to start anew somewhere else. A few old people refused to leave the village. I wish I knew what became of them. But there was no one willing to take in a child._

_The priest they called to purge the village of unclean air after all that death pledged to ferry me to a convent where orphans and other such unlucky sorts could be cared for. There I learned my prayers, I was baptized, I was taught all about the gospels. The nuns of this convent were intent that lost children ought to know how to read, so they can read their scriptures to ward off the Devil. If you don’t have loving family, they said, the Devil would get you easier because people aren't praying for you._

_There was much drilling in my schooling. I always progressed faster when I had the option to learn by action. Words mean little to me when written on a page._

_When the time came that I… reached maturity I was afraid. Sister Mary Jude gave me rags and told me I had become a woman. I didn’t understand. There was so much I was curious about and the nuns refused to talk about. There were some texts, dry and archaic. But my curiosity did not wain._

_Fallen women sometimes showed up to the convent, having nowhere else to turn. I listened to one woman laboring with child and… I wanted to be with her. I wanted to help her. I was too young. I wasn’t allowed, but Sister Mary Jude saw my fascination, and she asked if I felt called to help women like that. That perhaps my curiosities were a sign of a higher calling._

_I prayed and I read the scriptures and I prayed and two years later when another fallen woman came to the convent, I was allowed into the room with the nuns. I fetched water from the well and boiled it. I made tea for the nuns and the woman. I prayed for her with all I had and most importantly I watched the nuns work._

_For years I watched and assisted the births of bastard children. The mothers were bony and dirty and weak. They feared birth and death and hell but when I was at their side and I encouraged them — when the nuns told them God had a plan for them — I saw a deep, natural strength come into play._

_The sow this morning felt the pain of birth. She allowed me to help because she was exhausted. Yet she could not fear what was happening. I wish women did not fear birth. I wish they did not have so much reason to fear it. I wish so many women did not die in childbed._

_I have not lost one mother to childbed in my time as a midwife, My Lady, not one.  
~~~_

“I don’t think I’ll go into anything else, tonight.” 

Jinkx looked over at Violet, her profile the only visible thing in the ever-dimming candlelight. Again the woman was reminded of just how beautiful the princess was. “Your highness,” she said in a low voice, as if someone would overhear. 

Violet sighed. “I am trying to grow closer with you. How am I to achieve any level of friendship when you neglect to call me by my name?” 

“ ‘Your Highness’ _is_ your name,” said Jinkx. “To people of my class.” 

Violet pressed her lips together. “Class is irrelevant.” 

Jinkx chuckled. “I know you to be a revolutionary, but it is beyond even your station to command constructs of the civilized order to evaporate simply because you wish it so.” 

Violet sat up in bed and commanded her midwife look at her. Jinkx found herself reminded that God Himself commanded Violet’s forebears to rule the land. The woman in bed next to her, the woman she served, had a more direct line to the Almighty than Jinkx ever would, simply by nature of her parentage. The same would be true for any child Violet eventually bore. 

“How can you expect me to treat you as a friend when you order me to do things?” There was Jinkx’ sleepy tongue again. She amended the harsh speech. “You need only ask.” 

“Please look at me,” offered Violet. 

The princess-duchess continued when Jinkx obliged her request. “I know class in ways you don’t. And I know this structure, like monarchy itself, is dying. I know that the common folk are demanding to be treated like humans as opposed to workhorses and that this frightens aristocrats. There is talk among philosophers that God is dead, that He has abandoned His people and it would certainly seem so.” 

Jinkx flinched away from her lady’s harsh talk. She did not want to hear such things, and felt unclean for having heard the blasphemy. Then she felt a hand cup her chin. 

Violet led Jinkx to meet her gaze again. “I do not say this to disturb you, Ginevra.” 

Jinkx felt her shame melt as she gave in once again to her lady’s eyes.

Violet reached toward Jinkx’ face and brushed a lock of hair from her face. The touch was so delicate, it was as if Violet were merely a spectre, not truly there, a figment summoned by some dark sorcerer. 

Jinkx’ eyes fell to Violet’s lips, so close in the dark. She felt some pull, and was reminded of her early days of courtship with Henry. She watched Violet’s lips close and her throat contract as she swallowed. 

“The world is changing, Ginevra,” whispered Violet. “I think you feel it, too.” 

Jinkx felt a swell build in her chest. Her heart raced and she felt balanced on the edge of a knife. What falling would mean she did not know, but she was not entirely unwilling to find out. 

Violet took Jinkx’ chin in both of her long, slender, smooth hands. Jinkx closed her eyes, though there was little need to in the near absolute darkness. 

Then. 

Her Royal Highness Princess Violet Ursula Chachki, Duchess of Geneva, leaned forward and kissed Ginevra Monsoon right on the mouth. 

Her lips were soft and her touch gentle. She breathed in Jinkx’ own breath as Jinkx breathed in Violet’s. It was a mixture of wine and charcoal and old bread and perfume. Jinkx felt her own womb awaken and she wanted to squeeze her legs together, but she also did not want to. She wanted to grab Violet by the shoulder and keep the two of them connected. She wanted to grab her lady by the waist, throw her down on the mattress and keep kissing her. She felt a desire to do even more than just that, but knew not what could be done with only two women. 

Jinkx gasped and pulled back, twisting away from Violet and off of her bed. She stood, shocked, and panted. The edge of Violet could be made out, in the same spot she had been seconds ago, leaning forward, holding her fist on top of the exposed sheets, as if she wished to grab Jinkx before she came back to her senses. 

Jinkx shuffled around in the darkness. She had to leave. She could not speak but she had to leave. 

“I need to tell you something,” Violet raised her voice in the dark. “Before you go.” 

“What on God’s green earth could you need to say after…” Jinkx shook her head. 

“I sent Tatianna’s beau a response.” 

Jinkx puckered her face in confusion, even though Violet would not see. “How is that--” 

“ _With_ a caveat.” 

Jinkx was still confused. She heard linen shifting and delicate footfalls on the hardwood floor. She sensed Violet making her way over to her. 

“General Zamolodchikova must come meet my Lady and myself before I will allow her to marry him.” 

“Good?” offered Jinkx. 

“I understand after she marries, Tatianna will want to be near her husband, not weeks’ ride away in a different country,” explained Violet. “As she will be outside of the Estate, I will be out one Lady-in-waiting. This is a position which must be filled.” 

Jinkx blinked. Her heart began to speed again. She felt some anticipatory knowledge creeping in, but surely the princess did not mean-- 

“I want _you_ to be that Lady-in-waiting, Ginevra.” 

Jinkx began to stammer. “N-n-n-no, no, no, no, my l- my la- my lady y-y--” 

Soft hands clamped around Jinkx’ wrists. Everything within her screamed to pull away but she did not want to. Her voice quieted and she allowed Violet to speak and sooth her. 

“Jinkxie, Jinkxie,” cooed Violet, stroking her ginger hair softly. “I want you by my side always. I want you not only as my midwife, as my friend…” she thought over her words. “Ginevra, I want you as my lover.” 

Jinkx felt cold and… loose, like all her joints may come apart if Violet were to stop holding her. She felt like a house of cards, only upright so long as a soft wind refrained from nudging her. 

“H-how does that sound?” asked Violet, nerves plain in her voice.

“I feel faint,” said Jinkx. 

***  
Jinkx was vaguely aware of being led to a bed and lain down. Her head was swimming and murky, like an overgrown pond where any creature might lurk in the unseen depths. 

She became aware of a feeling like the rising dawn growing in her spirit, and came to realize the feeling was coming from her womb, and she awoke to herself. Her body was alight, dripping and buzzing, aglow with the energy that had brought Lil and Henry II into existence. But her husband was not here. The one touching her was Violet -- had to be -- and she had learned much from over a year of being treated by Jinkx. Her massage was excellent. 

A moan escaped Jinkx’ mouth before she could stifle it. 

She felt Violet chuckle beneath her. “Suppose I’m doing something right.” 

Jinkx felt warmth ripple through her and breathed deeply. Violet quickened her pace. Jinkx’ legs acted of their own accord, spreading and elevating for Violet. Jinkx squeezed her eyes shut and bit down on her hand as another, shallower moan wound its way up her throat. She had not felt this in so long it was almost brand new. This feeling of being touched where she was most sensitive, where she could be hurt so easily, by someone unafraid of such a responsibility. Her back arched and she grabbed at Violet’s sheets. 

“Let go, Ginevra, I have got you. You are alright.” 

With that, Jinkx completely let go, satisfaction hitting her womb and rippling out through the rest of her body. She breathed loud and unafraid, and thanked God she could feel such heaven coursing through her. 

Jinkx was somewhat aware of the body crawling up the mattress to lie next to her, and of the fingernail tracing circles into her shoulder. As she calmed from her relief, she reached for the soft hand that had given her such pleasure. 

"How are you feeling now?” asked Violet softly. 

Jinkx sighed happily. “Yes.” 

She heard the princess giggle next to her. “Yes, what, exactly?” 

Jinkx turned her head to speak to Violet directly, all light officially gone save for the pallid moonlight trickling in through a window. She was only aware of the other by her scent and weight on the mattress. “Yes to all of it,” she said. “Yes, I’ll be your friend, your Lady… your lover. Yes.” 

Violet clapped her hands happily. “Really?” She stilled, as if remembering some reality or another. “What do you want in return?” She spoke as if no one ever did anything for which there was no reward. 

Jinkx pressed her lips together, thinking. “I… would require an allowance,” she started. 

“Of course!” Violet exclaimed softly. “Of course, you’d earn as much as my other ladies--” 

“I _need_ enough money to keep my children from having to work,” said Jinkx confidently. “And to pay for salves for my girl’s dry hands.” 

Violet was silent for a few moments. “Your girl is only five years old,” she stated. 

Jinkx’ shoulders slumped. “You are correct. But I do not make enough money currently to pay for my keep and the keeps of my two children. That is not even counting food costs, either. I hated it, but I _had_ to take your husband up on his offer to pay Lillian to help the launders.” 

Violet gripped Jinkx’ hand, hard. “Do not send her to the launders tomorrow, Jinkx. I will get you a raise before Lady Tatianna’s engagement party, so you can feed your children and send them to Nanny Alyssa.” 

Without realizing, Jinkx began to cry. “I’m sorry,” she mumbled. 

Violet heard the tears in Jinkx’ voice and pulled Jinkx into her arms. “Whatever is it now, love?” 

Jinkx sobbed. “I do not deserve you, I do not deserve this, I know I am sure to wake up tomorrow alone on my bench--” 

“Shhh,” soothed Violet. She struggled for a way to console the crying woman. A thought struck her. “See, Jinkx? I’ll pinch your shoulder, and if you feel the pinch, that would be proof of your waking state.” 

She gently pinched some flesh. 

“Um,” said Jinkx. 

“Feel that?” asked Violet, smiling. 

“I did,” offered Jinkx. “But what you’ve pinched just now was not my shoulder.” 


	3. Pain

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jinkx is called from spending time with her children to check on Princess Violet, who is in a lot of pain after meeting with her husband in an effort to get him to agree to promote Jinkx.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know people were like ‘omg i need the next chapter NOW’ when chapter 2 came out, but I can only work so fast. So here’s chapter 3, **content warning** for **reference to painful sex** , **reference to death** , and **depiction of drug use**. Needless to say I’ve never smoked opium (i don't think anyone ALIVE has) and everything I know I got from a brief wikipedia article.  
>  Reference:  
>  _Raring_ \-- old fashioned Swedish for ‘sweetheart/dear one’. Does it date back to the 19th century? No clue. I can’t always be historically accurate, this is fanfiction after all.

Jinkx went about her morning, making dough out of her meager supplies and breaking her children’s fasts with stale bread from two days ago. She did not send Lillian to the laundry, instead rubbing oil on the poor thing’s hands from the short, stout crystal bottle Violet had loaned her last night. As Lady Violet did not rise until mid morning, Jinkx felt free to walk her children down to where Miss Alyssa would be keeping the other servants’ children.

The Duke’s manor was placed delicately on the top of a hill, a steep roll on all but one side down toward a quaint, winding river. On the one steady side was the road that led down and around open land, all the way to a nearby village, which had been creeping ever closer to the manor, despite the Duke’s efforts to keep the common folk away. Jinkx had giggled with Henry that their master did, in fact, believe the poor carried different diseases, and that their blood was altogether inferior — they bled green, for all he knew. Jinkx would smile with her superior knowledge from the convent, that all people were made of the same stuff what made up the dust in the Garden of Eden. Henry had looked at her for a long time after that, his eyes full of absolute love. She had had a thought, whenever he gave her that look. She thought, _no one will ever look at me again the way he does_.

Jinkx gazed to the son in her arms. His small hand pawed at the neck of her dress. An instinct, she thought. Like how a caterpillar knows building a cocoon is what he ought to do. Even though Henry II had never been fed by Jinkx this way, he knew what her breasts were for. 

The three of them passed through the side door of the manor and Jinkx ruffled Henry’s hair. Lillia headed running down the hill, squealing with glee as she lurched forward, aided by the slope. Jinkx could not help but smile watching her go, her golden puff of hair streaming in the fresh air, little legs working their hardest. _This is where a child belongs_ , she thought to herself. _Out of doors, not sequestered in a laundry_. 

Henry strained against her hold, eager to join his sister. Jinkx took a deep breath of his head, which still carried a whiff of infant, before walking him down the hill. 

Lillia had already re-joined the pack of children she usually ran with. There was Ebba, gorgeous with her eyes blue as bugloss, her skin fair as snow and hair the palest yellow Jinkx had ever seen. She had delivered little Ebba — was the only person Ebba’s mother Liesl would allow near when the pains had begun. Jinkx had been pregnant much of the same time as Liesl, and she did much of the birth with four-month-old Lillian either latched at her breast or tucked into her sling.

Today, Ebba was wobbling her arms, and she kicked one leg at the ground in frustration. This action caused a rising cry. Pulled by instinct, Jinkx set Henry in the grass, letting him toddle after the bigger kids, while she approached little Ebba. Lil pranced around her friend, asking to be chased, to be played with. Ebba simply sat in the grass, her face downcast, dirt turned to mud on her wet cheeks. 

Jinkx kneeled in the grass next to the child and greeted her. As was common, Ebba knew the local tongue better than her foreign parents did. She responded to Jinkx while looking at her shoes. “Why are you sitting in the grass, Ebba?” asked Jinkx. 

The child pointed a finger at her lower lag. “Hurts.”

The midwife puckered her lips. “You hurt?” She clucked. “That won’t do at all, will it? May I have a look?”

Ebba nodded and Jinkx leaned around the child to see what was causing trouble. “Ooh, that’s a bit of a thorn in there.” Ebba looked up in fear. Jinkx watched her little muscles prepare to wail. “Oh, but you needn’t strain yourself,” she cooed. “I can fix that for you, if you can be nice and brave, like _mamma_ and _papa_. Can you do that for me?”

Ebba pouted her lip and held her arms tightly around herself. 

Jinkx took that as agreement. She held Ebba’s little foot high enough for her to take the flat edge of one of her nails to the side of the red angry skin around the thorn. Ebba squeaked at the sudden pain and Jinkx looked at her with a smile. “It has been a while since Lillian was able to play with you, has it not?”

Ebba’s face screwed up but she did not cry out. “Has been long time,” she managed, tension thick around her voice.

Jinkx glanced down. It was working, she just needed a little more. “What is your favorite game to play together, Ebba _raring_?” She had first heard Liesl and her husband use the word around their babe, so Jinkx caught on. Hearing the word in her parents’ tongue did more to calm Ebba than Jinkx had expected. 

The girl’s face lit up. “Oh, we play this fairy game where--AAAHH!”

Jinkx let the girl get started speaking before pressing the full force of her thumb into the side of the welt on the bottom of the girl’s foot. She felt something flick onto her arm, and looked to see a bit of black thorn and a small spatter of blood across her sleeve. Ticking her eyes back to Ebba’s foot, the wound was open. The thorn had come away without breaking. Jinkx gave thanks to The Almighty for such a simple blessing and pulled the thorn from her top to show Ebba. 

Jinkx held it gingerly between two fingers. “See? This was the trouble, and it’s gone now.”

Ebba had started crying again after Jinkx’ last push on the welt. Her flower petal lips turned down in displeasure. “That hurt!”

“It did, I know, but it is over now. It will not hurt you any more.”

Before she could coddle the child any further, a voice spoke up from behind her. “Miss Monsoon?” 

Jinkx turned to see one of Violet’s five ladies-in-waiting. Lady Naomi was built like a wood plank, everything about her thin but for her lips, which were the size of breakfast sausage. Her dark eyes always seemed distant, contemplative. _Perhaps I will know someday soon what lies behind those eyes_ , thought Jinkx. _When Violet has made me her official Lady_. 

For now, however, Jinkx held to her station, petting Ebba on the head before standing at attention to take her orders. 

“My Lady awaits you,” said Lady Naomi. Her voice was soft, with some distant form of bite, like an autumn breeze. 

Jinkx’ face contorted in surprise and confusion. “What is the hour? It is not customary for Her Highness to be awake so early.”

The Lady Naomi’s fashionably thin eyebrows rose, as if unexpecting Jinkx’ knowledge of her Lady’s sleep schedule. “It is out of the ordinary,” granted Naomi. “However, she is in need of your… counsel.”

Jinkx felt unease trickle down her spine. What could have happened during the night that Violet would need her so early? “Pray tell, good lady, if you are at liberty to tell Her Highness’ midwife why she is needed?”

Naomi glanced both ways, as if looking out for spies. Without moving her feet beneath her gown, she leaned her head and torso closer to Jinkx. Her voice cut to that of wind whispering through stone. “I know that she left her chambers some time in the early morning before returning. Now she says she is in too much discomfort to even sit upright. Pardon the unpleasantness, but Lady Farrah noted there are a few spots on Her Highness’ bed sheets, and it is not time for that if you understand my meaning.” 

Jinkx did understand Naomi’s meaning. Her heart ached, and she did not understand why.

Naomi leaned back into her regular astute posture. She continued speaking even though Jinkx had not asked her to. “Myself and the other Ladies believe, at least, she was visiting her husband, The Duke, as he was in… _pleasant spirits_ after last night's’ ball.”

The midwife felt emotion stir sickeningly in her stomach. To the Lady, she nodded that she would follow to Her Highness’ bedchambers, but not before looking out for the child at her ankle, who was just trying to stand once again. 

Jinkx kneeled to Ebba again and looked into her pale blue eyes. “ _Raring_ , I want you to leave that foot as much as you can. Hop on one leg as much as you can today, alright? Do not be afraid of punishment. If your Lady asks, say I told you to.” Jinkx smiled. “If Miss Alyssa is cross, it will be with me, not you.”

Ebba nodded and threw her thin arms out, hugging Jinkx around her neck. Jinkx curled into the little girl’s arms, allowing the embrace to renew her strength before going to see Violet.

*  
On her way to Her Highness’ room, Jinkx felt herself a bit faint. What could have driven Violet to her husband? Was she disgusted by what she had asked Jinkx? Did she feel sickened by their kiss in the dark, or was she called by the Almighty to apologise to The Duke for adultery? Was what they did, what Jinkx consented to, adultery? Did it count? Jinkx could not be the cause of a bastard child -- she could not make a child with Violet. So what was the sin? _Was_ there sin?

Jinkx only relaxed when she came upon the face of Bob the footman at Violet’s door. He smiled and Jinkx’ worries eased. “Go ahead, midwife,” he said. “Her Highness awaits, and in a better mood than when I relieved the night watchman. The whinging has ended, since they brought out the pipe.”

Jinkx could not hold off the worry for long. She could not help the image of Violet’s predecessor rising to the front of her mind. The girl’s sallow skin, sunken cheeks, bony chest and fingers, her hand clutching her intricate pipe, unwilling to return to the mortal world, where she had known so many horrors. Words breathed into Jinkx’ ear. _Scatter me in my mother’s homeland, with her people, if they will have me. I want to go home_.

Something brushed against her cheek and Jinkx jumped back to reality, standing in the hallway with only Robert -- Lady Naomi must be inside already. Bob’s dark eyes looked at her with deep concern. That was his glove at her cheek, swiping away a tear. 

“Oh,” Jinkx blushed. “Forgive my errant emotions.”

“It was not your fault.” Bob knew exactly. He had been assigned elsewhere at the manor at that time, but he had heard when The Duke’s second wife had finally passed on to the next life. The poor girl, so young, and caught between two worlds, unable to fit into either, longing for a homeland she had seen only in her mother’s tellings of it.

“I know.” Jinkx swallowed the rest of her tears. “But I was there.” She righted her shoulders. “And now I have a job to do.”

Bob nodded his support and opened the door for Jinkx. 

The scent of opium evaporating made Jinkx want to run, to cry again over the waifish Duchess Adore, the skeleton what drew her last breath while Jinkx watched helpless. _But again_ , Jinkx reminded herself. _You have a job to do_.

Violet reclined in the center of her bed, her dark hair falling freely over her shoulders as it had been when she had called Jinkx the night before. There was a serene look on her face, an odd blush to her cheeks that gave an illusion of vitality. The midwife realized the Ladies must have slapped some blush onto Violet’s face for this effect. On Violet’s right side, Jaidynn sat only half on the mattress -- there was not enough space for her wide hips and full figure. At her left, the little Lady Farrah sighed happily as she braided small pieces of Violet’s long hair. Lady Max and Lady Naomi watched over the oil lamp upon which the heavily scented drug heated. And at the foot of Violet’s bed, a lovesick Lady Tatianna lounged staring into the visage of her beloved. The lines of the sketch had been touched, rubbed, caressed to the point the General’s face and form were ghostly. Lady Tatianna knew every crevice and stroke of charcoal that made up her fiance. 

The sight of such affection, such girlish delight over another person warmed Jinkx’ heart, reminding her that, in fact, happy marriages could exist. Looking back to Violet, the midwife felt unsure as to whether Lady Tatianna’s giddiness was endearing or painful to her.

Violet’s heavily lidded eyes sought out the new woman in the room. Jinkx felt those eyes on her for a good many seconds before Violet could place her name and why she was present. The servant found herself flushing hot, unsure of how to act in this space. She was more than just any servant to Violet, but should she still refrain from protocol when the Ladies were present? Even though she would be one of them soon? So unsure of how to behave, Jinkx said nothing. 

Thankfully, she did not need to. Violet clumsily clapped her hands together, barely making a sound. Her Ladies took note anyway, and stood or sat at attention. Violet dismissed her Ladies, telling Max to leave the lamp and the pipe behind. Jinkx felt spectral insects crawling over her when she glanced at the lamp. She felt woozy already. 

As soon as the door shut, Violet spoke freely. “Jinkx you would not believe how long it took him to end it last night,” she complained. “He kept going soft and it is never over until he gets satisfaction so I lie there letting him stab me with his short pole but he keeps,” she sucked in breath at the painful memory. Her voice dropped to a whisper. “He kept _missing_ , Ginevra.”

“Why did you go to him in the first place?” Jinkx’ voice was low and serious. It gave off an affectation that when she heard it in the air, soured her face.

Violet blinked at her for a few seconds, not understanding, then let out a warbling cackle that bubbled like poison, rising all the way to the ceiling, like smoke, choking everything else. “See,” she said through sickening laughter. “See, I had forgotten,” more laughter. “I forgot that we -- we as -- as women as people, we can not do--” Violet breathed in sharply, sobered by pain. Squeezing her eyes shut and then back open, she tried again. “Men own us. I forgot that. You are a widowed servant, so the man in charge of you...” her mind fuzzed again and she lost her thought.

Jinkx looked down, understanding Violet’s full meaning. “The Duke.” _You need him to promote me_.

Violet threw a pale naked arm back against her headboard. “I had good lays, you know. In the past.” Her eyes were far away. Jinkx felt the urge to follow her. 

She sat on the edge of Violet’s bed, gingerly pulling up the sheet to note those spots Naomi had spoken about. Surely enough, there were stains of red-orange crusting over to brown near the Princess’ hip. While Violet talked in her haze, Jinkx fetched a water basin from nearby. 

“I had good, _good_ lays. Learned my craft from French court… courtesans? Heh, that is… a fancy word. For what they do. It is right -- they do fancy sex. They fancy it -- the French like a _fuck_. But they do, they do fancy sex too. All good Christians are supposed to lie there and let it happen…”

Jinkx felt half scandalized by Violet’s talk, but she refrained from speaking up about it. By this point, Jinkx had started dabbing at Violet’s silk sheets, pulling away some of the evidence. Violet grabbed her wrist in a vice-like grip. When Jinkx flinched, Violet raised her head from her pillow and stared deeply into Jinkx’ frightened eyes. 

“You’re judging me.”

“What?” Jinkx breathed. “No, that--”

Violet threw off her bedcoverings. “Yes you are, you’re judging me for smoking!”

“N-n-n-now Your Highness, please do not strain yourself--”

Jinkx was too late. Violet, moved by anger, tried to get out of bed, only to fall to her knees, clutching between her legs, a hollow wail escaping from her throat. Jinkx took her under the arms and helped her half-stand. Violet clamped her hand around Jinkx’ arm to stop her. “Get me the pipe.”

Jinkx had promised herself she would never touch one, after Duchess Adore. The thing that allowed her to die by her own hand. She could not. Would not. But Violet commanded it, so she broke that vow.

It was quick. Violet still stood hunched over, unable to walk upright, for her thighs, her buttocks. The poor woman. Jinkx took her hand and placed the item into her delicate fingers. Violet pulled the pipe to her mouth and drew a long breath in, couching shallowly as she did. That smell engulfed Jinkx again, but she was not disgusted anymore. She was too busy watching Violet. 

Her Highness’ eyes squeezed shut. Her mouth open slightly. Her throat clenched in an attempt to swallow that ended with Violet caught into a fit of coughing. Jinkx did her best to be an arm as Violet fell back onto her goose feather mattress, wincing when her backside hit. She watched as Violet took another deep breath through the pipe and tried to relax. 

“What can I do?” hissed Jinkx.

Violet took another long breath. Jinkx’ midwife’s mind told her Violet would be fine in two day’s time, but her heart clenched every time Violet’s brows knitted together in pain. 

After some time, when Jinkx suspected the drug had gone into effect, Violet was able to lie back on her mattress, though she insisted on keeping herself on top of her blankets. The Princess held her pipe in one hand and with the other she clutched Jinkx’ hand. Her lids sagged heavy and her lashes battered together like butterfly’s wings. Her mouth moved slightly, and Jinkx leaned close to hear. She received a flash of Adore’s dither in her ear and felt the cold creep up her spine before Violet blew it away.

“Tell me a story?” 

Jinkx felt almost as if Duchess Adore’s spirit were prodding her. She smoothed back some of Violet’s dark oak-colored hair. She remembered doing the same to Henry I in their marriage-bed. With Violet too, the gesture felt shamefully intimate. “Do you need a happy story?” she asked. 

Violet let out a sound that was like a sigh and a hum of contentment. “Wha’evr.”

Jinkx pursed her lips and nodded. “What do you know of your predecessor? The Duke’s second wife.”

She gave Violet a while to process her question and come up with an answer. She watched the princess struggle, until she said, “Seven months she lasted?”

Jinkx bit her lip. “Nearly eight.” When she looked up, the slits of Violet’s eyes were on her. She continued.

* 

_You know she died early on in the marriage. She was also very young. Seventeen. So young…_

_You asked for a story, so I will start at the beginning. Adora’s father was a merchant, made his way into some high circles with generous donations. One trip back to Europe, he brought back a native wife from the Americas. Some thought he was dirty for it_. 

_I saw him at functions sometimes, early on when The Duke was courting her. It was clear to me why he named the product of their marriage Adora. He adored his wife. I could never tell from her face, the way she acted, if she loved him back. She always had a far-off look about her. I think she never spent a minute on European soil where she was not missing her homeland. Except, perhaps, when she was with her daughter_. 

_Adore’s mother — who I hesitate to call by any name, as she was given a white name by Society — could not bear to part with what was left of her home. Her own blood, her own child, would be handed over to yet another man in this place she did not know. I think it killed her, this last loss_. 

_Adore spent her wedding night weeping. She was much in the same condition as you are now, after the first night_. 

_And she turned to the same pipe. She lit that lantern and never put it out. I tried to get her to participate in marital duties, but I left the task within the first few weeks. It was obvious her priorities were… elsewhere_. 

_She was… I hate saying ‘she was’. But it is the truth_. 

_Adore was smart. Very smart. She compromised The Duke’s trade documents to order more opium for her own use. She could have achieved so much, in another life_. 

* 

“I do not tell you about this to judge you, Violet,” said Jinkx, digging deep into the Princess’ fogged eyes. “I only want you to know why this pipe, this drug… why it makes me afraid.” 

Without her consent, Jinkx found her eyes watering. Ashamed, she turned her face from Violet. A hand fumbled lightly at her shoulder. Violet pulled Jinkx close to her face. She set down her pipe and cupped Jinkx’ cheeks with both of her hands. Through her tears, Jinkx saw her dark hair fanned around her head like a shadow of a halo, like a saint of darkness. Her skin was pale, her eyes barely visible under her thin lids. Her lips parted sluggishly, and it took a while for her thoughts to reach her mouth. 

“Don’t… fear… for me,” she said. 

Jinkx exhaled hard. More tears flooded to her cheeks. A drop fell from her chin onto Violet’s arm. Violet looked down at where the tear had fallen, and circled her fingers around the darkened spot on her sleeve. Something in her face cleared, a bit of her finding her way out of the fog. “I mean it,” she breathed. “I’ll be alright.” 

Jinkx spoke through her clenched teeth. “You can’t know that.” 

“Shhh.” Violet brought her finger to Jinkx’ nose, then down to her lips. The fog blotted back over, and Violet sighed in relief. “I need this,” she said, waving her hand. “Right now, for the pain. Tomorrow… I’ll be fine.” 

Jinkx looked away again and pursed her lips. “I know,” she swallowed. “I know you will.” 

Violet knitted her eyebrows together, rethinking. “I’ll be alright, won’t I? You looked?” 

The vapors were surely getting to her -- Jinkx took a few seconds to understand what Violet was asking. “Oh, yes, of course,” she breathed. 

Violet visibly relaxed back into her haze. Jinkx placed an open hand on top of Violet’s hipbone, and found that the Princess closed her own hand on top of hers. Her palm was warm. Jinkx used her thumb to rub little circles over Violet’s lower belly over her silk nightgown. She remembered Henry doing the same for her, to soothe her after a difficult day, or a long birth. 

A soft hum escaped from Violet’s throat. Jinkx smiled. “Feel good?” 

Violet closed her eyes all the way and snuggled her head further into her pillow. There was something childlike about her in this moment, hiding from the world in the comfort of a bed. If Violet had asked, Jinkx would have sat contentedly at her bedside watching her doze for hours. It was enough to know she was at peace, her painful body far away from her spirit. 

When Violet spoke again, Jinkx was not expecting it. She had been humming children’s lullabies to herself and remembering Lillian’s head asleep on her chest. Henry I’s large hand on what was left of her waist after giving birth to her first child. 

Jinkx snapped to attention. “My apologies, what was that?” 

Violet looked into her bedsheets with semi-sober eyes. “Would you kiss me?” 

Jinkx felt warmth spreading through her chest. She stood out of her chair and leaned over to peck at Violet’s ear. 

Violet pouted. “Not like that.” 

About to ask what she meant, Jinkx feverishly tried to stop Violet when she started moving in her bed. The princess shimmied backward, small stabs of pain striking across her chiseled features, until she was only taking up half of her large bed. She reached out her hand to Jinkx and sighed, letting herself fall back into her pillows. “Lie here.” 

Jinkx pursed her lips and wrung her hands in worry. 

Violet looked up, her eyes close to tears themselves. “Please.” 

Jinkx kept her feet and shoes in the air to the side of the bed as she lay on her side, facing Violet. The princess’ hand found Jinkx’ and held on. “Now,” she rhasped. “I want you to kiss me.” 

Jinkx understood. She leaned down and met Violet’s chapped lips. She tasted something bitter on her own lips and wondered how anyone could smoke opium for the taste. Still, Jinkx coaxed Violet’s lips agate and kissed her bottom lip, then her top lip, and played at tongue, shying away when Violet became too tired. 

Jinkx sat back and let Violet rest her head on her shoulder, one arm draped around Violet’s thin frame. They still held hands, Jinkx tracing little circles and humming the hymns that served as her lullabies at the convent. Somehow she knew Violet was stirring inside, the smoke wearing off. Jinkx could predict what Violet was about to say when she opened her eyes. 

“I can feel it,” she said, her voice clear and unslurred. Her hand groped the blankets between her legs. “Ginevra,” she said like it was a life-saving medicine. “I don’t wish you worry, so could you tell Robert to call back my Ladies?” 

Something about the prospect itched at Jinkx. Of course it was generous of Violet to take her feelings into account, but what could Violet’s Ladies do that Jinkx could not? She was supposed to become a Lady after all. She may as well start acting like one. “Actually,” Jinkx said with tentative confidence. “If you would like, if you hand me your pipe I can heat it up again. If that is how it works.” 

Violet’s eyes searched the air until she understood what Jinkx had said, and reached for where she’d placed her pipe. Handing it back to Jinkx, she left the midwife to prepare. She propped up her head on her fist and watched Jinkx at work. Her mind was all sketches of a landscape, but she could tell even now that something about what they had shared changed how Jinkx acted, just in the time -- for she knew not whether it was still morning or dead of night -- that they had been alone. 

Those thoughts split apart however, the parchment on which the sketch of thought tore in two, as every second her mind cleared, the ache in her womb and thighs grew stronger. Violet remembered him thrusting at her, full force, stabbing her in all the wrong places. It was a burn when she moved, her flesh raw and angry, like a mongrel with fleas. 

She had felt this raw before, but had borne it with delight, a joyous reminder of the time spent with a man she had only met that day. She remembered running through fields, bees knocked off of petals for Violet jumping on top of a different man. She remembered it as the third time that day. Some lovers were like the opium. Once a little is had, one could keep revisiting that well until their undoing. But she never let it get that far. 

Now, until either one of them died, Violet was tethered to this well. She remembered booze on her honeymoon, and perfumes and opium and the face of her new husband taken over by past lovers or those she had only hoped would become lovers in the future. Now, if she took another male lover, the Church would have her head, and the Duke would have a fourth wife. Jinkx, though, was safe, and Violet liked her. And she felt something with Jinkx, a feminine comradery perhaps, perhaps something more, though what that ‘more’ might be Violet could not name. 

Jinkx brought the pipe over to her, brought her the nozzle with the chamber still heating over the oil lamp. Violet eagerly sucked in the smoke that would make the ache between her legs a mere memory. And the woman who had watched Violet’s predecessor die to the opium, sat by her side and sang to her. 

Violet thought that was beautiful.


	4. A Talk In the Gardens

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Recovering from the events of the previous chapter, Violet invites Jinkx to tea in the manor gardens, where Jinkx learns about Violet’s Ladies, and what becoming one will mean for her.

 

The morning that followed Princess Violet’s lie-in, Jinkx was relieved to be called on after the Lady’s usual ten-thirty wake up time. The midwife had been helping Lady Alyssa with the manor’s children, teaching them songs and Bible stories. Jinkx was hard-pressed to remember having spent so much time with her children, and having though this, she longed to find a way to thank Violet appropriately for the advanced allowance that was the reason she could be with her children now.

It was nearing eleven when Lady Farrah approached in a pale pink walking dress. The midwife winced upon realizing how fine the lady-in-waiting was dressed for trudging through the manor lawn. Was Farrah unafraid of grass stains? Coming to her senses, Jinkx let out a soft laugh; of course Lady Farrah dressed without care for stains -- she had launders to worry about that for her.

Alyssa’s sharp eyes spotted Farrah’s approach as well. With some intensity, she gave a signal to the children. Immediately two thirds of her charges had turned to her, followed her eye and recognized a woman of importance approaching. Most quieted themselves. Those old enough to be trained, avoided staring at Farrah, as they knew the story of what a Lady could do to a child if she felt their eyes made her uncomfortable.

Jinkx overheard her own daughter Lillian explaining to Ebba (now fully recovered from her trouble with the thorn in her foot) why she mustn’t look at the short young woman for too long. “She can look at a guardsman --  _ swing! _ That’s a sword to your eye! And she’ll say if she catches you staring again, she’ll have your other eye!”

Ebba, horrified, clapped her little hands over her eyes.

Jinkx leaned toward her daughter. “Lil, where did you hear that?”

Jinkx’ own brown eyes stared back at her from under Lillian’s daisy-yellow hair. “Georgie told me.”

The midwife started to ask which of the four Georges Alyssa watched over had told Lillian this gruesome fact, but before she could do so, Lady Farrah spoke her name.

“Midwife Monsoon.” Though Farrah was the size of a pubescent child, and built like one as well, she dressed as fine as a princess, her sense for what pattern would go well on her frame impeccable as any high-demand designer. Obviously trained from an early age in the ways of holding herself with of high stature, she commanded an amount of respect that outweighed her poor height. Her face as delicate as a flower, and dressed to the nines every day, few would expect it, but it was true that Lady Farrah’s voice sounded less like windchime and more like a feathery bugle.

Jinkx dusted off her apron and tucked stray hairs under her bonnet. She took a few steps closer to the Lady. Even standing low on a hill, Farrah having incline to her advantage, Jinkx still managed to clearly see the top of Lady Farrah’s pink-ribboned sunhat.

Jinkx bowed slightly and tugged at the edge of her skirt. “Your Ladyship.” By the time the midwife looked up, she noticed the latter half of what may have been an eye roll from Farrah.

Farrah clapped out her fan, which startled Jinkx, as she had been under the impression that doing so was unladylike. Of course Violet was known for her refusal to follow certain etiquette rules, and it was possible her ladies may have been allowed some condonances, but Jinkx would hardly have imagined any level of boorishness from someone who appeared the very vision of propriety. Whipping her fan in the air enough to threaten Jinkx’ bonnet, Farrah informed her that the Duchess had arisen, broken her fast, and now wished to see her midwife in the gardens.

Relief showered Jinkx like sunlight. Violet had slept through the night, and now felt well enough to not only leave her room -- but to walk all the way to the manor gardens!

Farrah tilted her head back as she stared intently at Jinkx, looking her over as if she had never seen Jinkx before, and that a servant interested her enough to merit a once-over.

“Is something the matter with my apparel?” asked Jinkx, nerves making her speech tight.

Farrah sniffed and leaned her head back. Delicately, she reached a silk-gloved hand to Jinkx’ shoulder and stuffed a stray lock of hair back under the midwife’s sun bonnet.

Jinkx blushed. “My curls,” she winced. “Always escaping. No matter the cap.”

“Lady Jaidynn’s hair has a mind of its own as well,” remarked Farrah. “We always try new salves to make it stay for more than a few hours.” She looked up at Jinkx with something that resembled good nature, but not quite. A hesitant friendliness. “Perhaps you should try one of the salves that failed her.”

Jinkx waited for Lady Farrah to say something else, until she realized Farrah was waiting for her to respond. “Oh!” gasped Jinkx. “I think that would be a lovely idea.”

The Lady turned. “I’ll have her send one your way this evening.”

Jinkx continued to stand dumbstruck and unsure -- what an odd conversation to have… and now Farrah was leaving?

The Lady in pink turned back to Jinkx. “Why are you just standing there?”

Jinkx hurried along, lifting her skirts as she ascended the steep hill. Lil cried out for her not to go; it was so rare her mother was able to spend time with her during the day. Once his sister started, Henry II let out a wail as well. Jinkx felt her heart clench in her chest and she called ahead to the Lady: “I know where the gardens are, I’ll be with Her Highness shortly. Do tell her.”

Farrah’s face was skeptical, but she nodded Jinkx permission to break away and return to her children.

Lillian had already set off after Jinkx on her little legs. Her face had gone bright pink, and Henry toddled behind with tears streaming down his face.

The mother knelt down in the grass and opened her arms to receive Lillian first. The four-year-old dove into Jinkx’ shoulder and beat a sad fist against her back. “You can’t go! You said we could play! We haven’t even-- we didn’t get-- t- to-- to--” Lil’s wailing vibrated Jinkx’ ear.

Jinkx pressed a flat palm into her daughter’s back and rubbed gently. “Shhh, shh, I am not going to leave you.” Lillian’s wails quieted into sniffles. Henry, a few feet away, saw his sister getting attention and stomped his feet. Jinkx anticipated a conniption and stood, keeping Lillian supported with her arm.

Walking over to where Henry pouted, Jinkx let her daughter down and scooped up her son. Henry was little over 2 years old, and didn’t understand much, so Jinkx needed only bring him to her chest and rock him to quiet him down. She reached out her hand and looked Lillian in the eyes. “You don’t understand now, and it is frightening, but Mummy has a new job. She can be with you more. You don’t have to go to sleep hungry. I can spend more time with you.” She brushed a hand through her daughters’ hair. “ _ But _ . I still have to work. We can play later tonight, or tomorrow morning.”

Jinkx saw Lil’s lip quiver and pulled her daughter closer to avoid another outburst. “Hey, how about before I go, how about we sing a song? Would you like that?” Lillian’s lips stretched into a small smile. She nodded her head. “What would you like to sing?” The girl was silent.

Jinkx called back to an old song, old enough she remembered her own mother singing it.

 

_ 'Mid pleasures and palaces though we may roam, _

_ Be it ever so humble, there's no place like home; _

_ A charm from the skies seems to hallow us there, _

_ Which, seek thro' the world, is ne'er met with elsewhere. _

 

There were more verses, and her tune was wrong; she did not remember much. But the first verse remained in tact in Jinkx’ memory. And anyway, the children didn’t mind, Jinkx noted as Henry dozed on her arm and Lil hummed along with Jinkx’ makeshift tune. 

“Alright,” breathed Jinkx, gently tickling Henry awake. The boy rubbed his eyes and yawned. Lillian’s face was sated. Her tears were under control for the time being. Jinkx pressed a kiss to Lil’s hairline. “I may be home for supper this time, won’t that be nice?”

Lil fiddled with her dress. “Can we have cheesy bread like we had that one time at the wedding?” The kitchen had over-prepared for the Duke and Violet’s wedding. Searvents were entrusted to do away with leftovers. Jinkx recalled Lil’s face lighting up at the taste of the luxurious bread.

Jinkx chuckled. “We shall see. I’ll do my very best to make that happen, sweetheart.”

_____

Jinkx had only been to the manor gardens once, when Henry I asked her to marry him. Even then, the two had not stepped inside the ivy-lined wrought-iron gates. Henry had slipped the simple brass band over her finger against the backdrop of high hedges and semi-exotic flower buds. They had spent over an hour trailing the perimeter, straining to catch a peek between the foliage at what wonders flourished inside.

Today, approaching the heavy iron gates, Jinkx found them open to her. There was nothing she could see within but for the wide end of a cut hedge, bidding her inside. Hearing women’s laughter, Jinkx tentatively set foot inside. The midwife feared repercussions if she so much as trampled a blade of grass, which, taking inventory thereof, Jinkx realized that every green blade had been cut the exact same length -- about the height of her ring finger.

“Why…?” sang a confused voice.

Jinkx jumped from where she had been bent down examining the grass. There stood Lady Naomi, her wood-carved figure leaning against a flowering bush. “What were you doing bent over so?”

Jinkx blushed scarlet and bowed her head.

“You’re in no trouble,” explained Naomi.

Jinkx looked up to see the Lady smiling bemusedly.  _ How _ , wondered Jinkx,  _ are these Ladies so… condescending about whatever I do _ ?! She pushed a fist against her hip and lifted her nose in the air. “I was trying to see how tall the grass was,” she chirped defiantly. “If you must know.”

Lady Naomi burst out laughing. Anger bubbled in Jinkx’ belly. Her eyes narrowed. “I haven’t come here to confer with you anyhow, so if you will excuse me.”

Jinkx stomped around Naomi, but the Lady caught her firmly about the elbow. Jinkx’ anger drained like water through a sieve. Fear replaced her wrath. How had she just acted in front of a high-class lady?! Naomi’s hand on her arm would be the first contact before the slap that sent her to the ground. Servants endured extreme injury for showing cheek to a master or mistress. She had her children to think of! How could she have been so carelessly defiant?

Jinkx withered back, her hand flung to protect her face. “Please, my Lady, I beg you!”

The hand let go of Jinkx and she fell to the grass, her legs liquid with fear. From above, Lady Naomi cried out in disbelief. “Good,  _ God _ , woman, what is the matter with you?!”

A little ways away, a voice that was like salve on a burn. “Ginevra?” Jinkx’ head snapped up. “What on earth is the matter?”

Naomi poked her head around a hedge. “Your nurse’s got a touch of the vapors herself, is what it looks.”

Jinkx shakily rose to her feet, her mind stuck between reveling in the realization that Violet was just around the corner, and at the same time confused by the Lady’s sudden lapse from the proper dialect used by nobles, into something suggesting a worker’s accent.

“Jinkx,” cooed the unseen Violet. “Come along, darling. It’s alright.”

As Jinkx rounded the corner, she was struck by Violet all over again.

Seated on a high pillow, the Princess-Duchess was far cleaner and looked generally healthier than she had been the day before. Her cheeks, mostly pale, did have a touch of pink to them, genuine pink, as she wore her face bare of makeup in private company. Her dark hair today had been pulled up and pinned, loosely, so if it pained her, she could easily let it down by herself. She wore an elaborate cream colored dressing gown over a simple blue lounging dress, and the one pale foot Jinkx could see, wore a slipper.

Before Violet at a table sat Lady Tatianna and Lady Jaidynn. Tea and cake had been set out. Lady Jaidynn crunched on a biscuit and Lady Tatianna dunked a piece of cake into her tea. Violet, however, pressed her hands into her lap and leaned forward, her eyes calling for Jinkx though she dared not stand. Her Highness reached out to Jinkx, who quickly crossed the courtyard to kiss Violet’s hand.

Violet beamed at Jinkx. “I’m so glad you came.” Her eyes flickered to Naomi. “Fetch our guest a chair.”

“Oh you mustn’t do that, I can--”

“Drop it, Jinkx.” At first, the midwife could not figure who spoke, or how to respond. Lady Tatianna, the betrothed, lovesick girl, turned a side eye her way and sipped her tea. “Naomi will get your chair. You will sit, and be served by ourselves. That is how we behave amongst our own.”

“Oh, bu- b- but I’m--” Jinkx stammered.

“Not one of us  _ yet _ ,” finished Jaidynn just as Naomi set down a metal chair at Violet’s right side for Jinkx. “But you may be soon, so you ought to learn how we do things.”

Jinkx’ jaw dropped. She looked to Violet, who confessed. “I told them.”

Jinkx could not withhold her outrage. “Whatever for?” she screamed in a whisper.

“You cared so much for me yesterday,” offered Violet. “When you left, these girls wanted to know why you’d spend so much time. Long ago we swore we would never lie to one another. So I told them I was entertaining the prospect of another Lady to add to our numbers, in preparation for when Tati leaves with her beau.”

Jinkx turned fervently to Tatianna. “Your Ladyship, I assure I had no intention--”

“Come off it,” commanded Tatianna, taking another sip. When she had swallowed and prepared what she would say, she looked deeply into Jinkx’ eyes. “I… found myself… taken aback, by Vi’s admission yesterday, that she had been… preparing you, for this position. I could not help interpreting this as something my that friend Violet has assured me it was not.” She smiled into her tea. “Apparently, to quote Her Majesty--”

“Majesty’s my mother,” reminded Violet, her voice containing a rough edge.

“Whatever,” scoffed Tati. “She said I’m irreplaceable.”

“You are,” said Jinkx softly.

“Thank you,” Tati chirped. “Anyhow, it was brought to my attention that while I am loved and cherished, when I inevitably leave, my position as one of Violet’s Ladies will need filling.” Tati’s eyes took in all of Jinkx as she spoke next: “And I ought to be involved in who exactly will function as my replacement.”

“But before we begin to train you,” said Jaidynn. “We have a few questions.”

Jinkx swallowed hard. Before she could say anything, Lady Max rounded the corner into the garden, carrying a kettle, which still softly whistled. “Excellent,” commended Violet. “Would you mind serving our guest first?”

Max nodded and poured steaming tea into a delicate china cup in front of Jinkx. “Thank you,” breathed the midwife.

“It is my pleasure,” Max responded softly, moving to refill Jaidynn’s cup.

Jinkx’ eyes wanted to watch the Lady serve her equals, but Violet’s voice pried her back. “Do you take sugar or cream?”

Looking back into Violet’s honest and bare face, Jinkx felt the truth being pulled out of her. “Black, usually. I have a fondness for cream when I can get it.” She blushed, embarrassed of her humility.

Violet smiled and reached for the cream. Just out of her reach, she tried to shift in her chair to grab the tin of cream, but the movement sent her face stark white. She grabbed onto the table.

Jinkx’ heart jumped-- she sprung to her feet and grabbed the cream for herself. Looking back at Violet, she dared to ask softly, “Is it bad?”

Unbeknownst to Jinkx, the four sitting Ladies-in-Waiting shared looks. Jaidynn brought her teacup to her mouth and followed the exchange with every word.

Violet sighed and looked up, fixing her gaze on the downcast face of a stone angel meant to resemble the Duke’s first wife. With a shaking hand, Violet reached for her freshly refilled tea. “Not as bad as yesterday.” She took a sip, and felt herself soften at the knowledge that Max must have dropped a sugar into her tea without her knowledge. She looked up fondly at her Lady, thanking her silently. Beside her, Jinkx still worried. Violet straightened a bit, and looked into the other’s soft brown eyes. “If I don’t move, I can forget the… soreness is even there.”

“That’s good.” The red-haired woman chewed her lip.

_ Well that habit’s going to be the first thing to go _ , thought the Ladies.

“So,” began Jaidynn, folding her hands before her face and resting her elbows on the table. “Are you ready to begin?” Jinkx nodded. Jaidynn proceeded to ask “How often do you bathe?”

Jinkx turned her cup around and around on its saucer. “Every Sunday, is what they taught me at the nunnery. Hands, face, feet washed every day, or nearabout.” She looked to Violet for judgement.

“That sounds fine,” assured Violet sweetly. “But when we move you out of the servants quarters, to the East Wing, where we have piping, you will be washing the whole body the same amount as you would your feet,” she shrugged and looked to her Ladies. “Or thereabouts.”

The Ladies laughed. Jinkx did not understand why.

Naomi was the next to ask a question. Hers was in regards to the last time she had bought or sewed herself a new dress. Jinkx had to put in effort to remember that detail. In fact, it had been the dress she had married Henry in. “Ah,” chirped Tatianna. “What did your wedding gown look like?”

Jinkx smiled a little, shrinking from under the encouraging eyes of so many. “It was quite unfashionable,” she excused. “All I see now are the white gowns for marriage. But the Sisters always stressed blue for a chaste bride.”

Violet’s hand came to rest on Jinkx’ knee. “You know I  _ begged _ for a wedding gown in any color other than white.” She smiled. “Ever since Vicky did it white and plain, all you see are plain white brides!” Tati, Naomi and even Max, who had pulled up a chair between Naomi and Jaidynn, nodded their agreement.

“If I recall,” said Jinkx. “Was yours not white?”

Violet nodded. “It was, mainly. I had multicolored jewels shining at the breast of the gown, and two bands around my waist, each band a shred taken from the gowns of You-Know-Who’s previous wives.”

“Which  _ I _ thought was sweet,” interjected Tatianna.

“It was,” granted Violet. “I just wish they would have let me marry in black.”

The Ladies rolled their eyes and scoffed. Evidently, this was a complaint so common they were too tired of the conversation to explain to Jinkx why it mattered.

Violet pulled a frosted cake from the cake tray. “Anywho,” she said, biting off the edge. “What’s become of that wedding dress now?”

Jinkx smoothed her apron. “Oh, I wear it to mass every Sunday.” She looked up at Naomi and Max. “Only have the one good dress.”

“Hm,” said Tatianna. “You’ll have to show us some time.” She looked up at her fellow Ladies. “Maybe she can wear that to the coming-out.”

“We shall see.” Violet took a sip.

“Beg your pardon,” Jinkx said. “What coming-out?”

“A coming-out is a night when a person is introduced into high society for the first time,” explained Jaidynn. “Each of us had one before we were officially Ladies-in-Waiting. Well, everyone but Farrah. And Max. The people in high society already knew them.”

“Aristocrats don’t like me very much.” Max crunched on a dry biscuit.

“That was how I heard of her,” Violet told Jinkx. “I believe General Bettencourt put it… ‘brash, insolent, and disrespectful girl with a mouth more fit for a gambling house than a banquet’.” She laughed.

Max held her hands out. “I didn’t say so much as a word to the man!”

Jinkx couldn’t help but laugh along with the Ladies. “What on earth could make someone so cross with you?”

Max rolled her eyes. “I embarrassed his son.” She set her tea down. “All I did was write an essay for this man so he could be accepted into an important college. In exchange he said he would marry me and take me away from Florence once he graduated. How was I to know this boy would not even read what I had written for him! Members of the college regularly mingle with Florentian nobles. So he was commended on his use of the word ‘desultory’, and how he clearly had a perfect grasp of the language, and the boy cannot lie for his own skin, so he was exposed!”

Jinkx gasped, fully engrossed in Max’ story. She grasped Violet’s hand and squeezed. Violet squeezed back.

Max stood up from her chair to walk around while telling her story. “Imagine my surprise -- here I am sitting about my house, needlepointing, taking tea, doing all the things a good daughter does: minding myself, being seen and not heard. I come to find out my father is in a fury because I have single-handedly disgraced the family name, ruined a young man’s dreams of becoming a lawyer, ruined my own chances of ever finding a husband, possibly doomed my sister to spinsterhood, all because I wrote a stellar essay on the topic of law as it pertains to stealing the remains of dead persons from foreign lands.”

“I read her essay,” said Violet. “It was extremely well written. If I ran a law school, I would have accepted her instantly.”

“Do you fancy yourself a lawyer or a judge?” Jinkx asked Max.

The prematurely greyed maiden tapped the edge of the sweets plate. “A judge must always remain in her courtroom,” she said. “I wish to see the world. And anyway, I care much more for fighting wrongdoing than passing judgement on others.”

“A sense of selflessness appears to be a theme in Vi’s choice of Lady,” said Tatianna thoughtfully.

Violet shrugged. “I just like seeing authority being challenged. Tati, would you care to illuminate our guest on a certain act of yours that caught my eye while we were in finishing school together? Or should I?”

Tatianna shook her head and grabbed a cake. “I can’t bear to set the scene. You begin the tale, I’ll come in when my character speaks.”

“All right, fair enough.” Violet faced Jinkx. She wove the scene of a finishing school classroom, cloth chairs, needleworks, poetry oration. “And the woman who ran the school came to us while we sat around needlepointing. She said that a man would be coming to speak to us about the importance of taking in wild children to civilize them. Save their souls, give them a better chance at a distinguished life. He goes on to describe what we would be saving these ‘savages’ from, like paganism, and lack of drinking water and life in a mud hut. Little did he know that of the six girls he spoke to, one had been adopted by a European family and sent to that very finishing school, to ‘civilize’ her.”

Tatianna rose from her chair. “My first infraction was that I raised my voice. To speak when a guest is speaking is at first a few lashes. So I figured after the first time I corrected him on his language about ‘heathen African children’, and I saw the Matron’s face, I feel that Kierkegaard must have possessed my body. Suddenly nothing mattered but the truth. So I told this man, the Matron, and all the other girls with whom I had spent lessons, just what series of circumstances had brought me to Europe. That the Europeans invaded the homeland of my parents, that they enslaved my people, using our enemies against us. That they stole babies from mothers’ breasts, carted them north to their home countries, so they could feel good about ‘saving’ a baby from a terrifying world  _ they _ themselves created. I knew, and know, that brothers and sisters of mine have no recollection of me, or of our homeland, or of our parents. They have been stripped of everything that our forebearers gave to us. They do not know our mother’s name.

“I told those in the room about the terrifying journey I made, with people treating me like an animal, being bathed by strangers, crying for my mother, praying to see my home again. Truly abominable things happened to me before I reached the home that had bought me. The others know. Burian knows. I apologise, Ginevra, I simply do not know you well enough to say it. But I said it in that room, and with the man struck dumb and the Matron’s face boiling red, I ended my speech with…”

Violet joined in for the next line: “Now I ask you, Good Man, which side is the more worthy of the moniker ‘savage’?”

Jinkx’ eyes were wide. She would have been terrified in Tatianna’s position! Such daring spirit lifted her soul, and something told her that she could also have such strength within her, if she allowed herself.

“I knew in that room I had to keep Tati around,” explained Violet. “The family that had adopted her, disowned her after they received word of her display. She was turned onto the street -- I lost track of her for a time, but I wanted desperately to keep her near me, put her up in a decent inn. During her time on the street, she met Jaidynn, who ran away from her adopted family.”

Jaidynn shook her head. “That woman was determined to scrub the black from my flesh.”

Jinkx recoiled at the mental image. She had worked among enough servants to know such a thing was impossible. To try would only pain the poor person being washed!

“Poor thing was rubbed raw all over from the incessant bathing,” Tatianna shook her head and reached out for Jaidynn’s hand. “Thankfully I remembered some recipes from that wretched school. We got the swelling down.”

“It was clear I was not taking Tati without taking Jaidynn as well,” said Violet. “So I offered Jaidynn a job too! At first all I could pay them was a third of my allowance in exchange for their help with post and advice and such.”

“It was better wage than I made at the inn cleaning fire pits,” Jaidynn interjected. “Not much better, but better. I could afford enough fabric to make a decent dress.”

Violet pulled her teacup to her lips. “Wasn’t easy, convincing Mother to pay for Ladies. But I have my ways.”

“Her  _ ways _ ,” interjected Jaidynn. “Neglected mentioning that we’re black.”

“On purpose,” Violet assured her. “Mother’s too proper to cut off payment once the first has gone through. No matter how much she disapproves.”

“So the coming-out,” said Violet after a friendly silence. “ _ Your _ coming out.”

Jinkx shrunk back from the table. “I’m really not ready.”

“Of course you’re not,” scoffed Tatianna. “That’s what we’re here for.”

“We’ll get you ship-shape in no time,” said Jaidynn.

“Maybe a little bit more than no time,” qualified Naomi.

“Burian’s due to arrive at the manor mid-June,” said Tatianna. “That gives us a little less than six weeks to turn a servant into a socialite.”

“You don’t have to let Jinkx’ coming-out be the same as your engagement party if you don’t want,” Violet told Tati. “That was a suggestion.”

Tatianna’s face was cold as stone. “Well it was a good one.” She sipped her tea. “God willing, I’ll be blind to everyone but him, so, I may not even notice.”

Jinkx was unresigned about it. This all seemed so out of character for her—she was a midwife, a servant to the public, not someone who bathed daily or knew court dances. She looked to Violet, and in her brown eyes, she saw… home. And she remembered what the princess had said to her those nights ago.  _ I want you by my side always _ .

“If this is the way…” Jinkx breathed.

Violet cupped a cool hand around Jinkx’ warm cheek. “I promise, Ginevra,” Violet husked. “You will not regret this decision.”

The dark look in Violet’s eye reminded Jinkx of her body, of her wants, and of when Violet had brought her to ecstasy in that dark room. In Violet’s own bed. Jinkx found her mouth growing dry, and her underthings growing damp.

Violet smiled mischievously -- she knew what she had done to Jinkx. And she was pleased.

She very suddenly grew interested in one of the biscuit baskets. She cleared her throat. “Are those rolls with cheese baked in?”

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> please comment and leave kudos im very insecure :)))


	5. Learning the Waltz

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Violet and the Ladies begin the task of preparing Jinkx for her presentation in high society.

Jinkx anxiously re-parted Lillian’s hair.

“Can I have braids, mama?”

“Of course, dear.” She pressed her mouth into a nervous smile. “Just hold still for me.”

 Lillian stared at her bare toes in the late morning sun. Her friend Ebba lay nearby, covering her sensitive eyes from the sun while she tried to nap away a mild illness. Jinkx had let the girl sniff some herbs for help with her stuffed up nose. It wasn’t ideal, the medicine worked best when steamed or smoked, but for a little girl, it was the best Jinkx could give her. The herb, and convincing Miss Alyssa to let Ebba rest while Jinkx watched over.

 In between folding sections her daughter’s hair over and under into braids, Jinkx glanced over at the sleeping child. Her breathing was better than it had been, and Jinkx knew the poor thing hadn’t slept much the previous night. She could hear the futile coughs from down the corridor.

 Briefly, Jinkx stalled, concern setting in that when Violet moved her into the East Wing, she would no longer be able to help those like Ebba. She remembered one of the Kitchen staff -- James? John. Justin. One of those -- she had noticed him favoring one leg. Of course, as a man, he said nothing, but secretly, Jinkx prepared him a soothing compress and delivered it to him in passing. The following day, his limp had improved, and they shared a moment where he thanked her with his eyes, and Jinkx nodded in return.

 But she would no longer be among those who kept their pains private, who could not take a full day off from work because they were sore. Jinkx touched her crucifix under her bodice. Was she on the right path? She truly believed she was put on this Earth to help people, but how could she when she was removed from those who endure not only their own pains, but their masters’ as well?

 Tying a thin ribbon around her daughter’s second braid, Jinkx tried to summon her late husband’s memory. It grew harder and harder to grasp onto the essence of the man she had memorized years ago. What would he say? On one hand, his children were suffering in her current position. That wouldn’t do. If for no other reason than that, she ought to take the opportunity. But for herself, being near Violet made her spirit calm. Like with Henry Sr., Jinkx felt safe and peaceful just being in the presence of Violet.

But again, women of the Court did not work! How could she continue her life’s purpose if she was not allowed an external occupation?

This was a question for another time, as at that moment Lady Naomi appeared at the far end of the courtyard. Looking up, Jinkx signaled at the Lady. Naomi nodded and leaned against a wall in the shade.

To her daughter, Jinkx said, “You look lovely. Ebba is sleeping so well, I want you to let her sleep. In the meantime, why don’t you practice your songs and make Ebb a nice daisy necklace?”

 Lillian diligently went about picking wildflowers, and Jinkx followed Lady Naomi for her first day of ‘finishing school’.

 ***

Jinkx tensed against the seamstress’ ribbon. She had been measured by this puckered woman for what felt like hours. The midwife looked pleadingly at Lady Farrah, who giggled behind her needlepoint. “Not much longer,” she said.

 Jinkx pouted her lip. She had never had her measurements taken by a stranger. She’d done her own through all her adult life, and the nuns gave her and the other children what donated clothes they had, whether the garments fit or not. Now the seamstress rolled her eyes and scratched down numbers in her notebook. “You would do better to hold still,” said the seamstress. “Or you’ll end up with a bodice down to your knees.”

 Jinkx reddened, and watched Farrah hide behind her cloth frame. Jinkx distracted herself by imagining what the Lady was stitching. A hankerchief? Napkin? Either way, she seemed to be embroidering. “Lady Farrah,” said Jinkx, loud enough to be heard across the room. “What are you working on there?”

“Oh.” The Lady rested her frame on her lap. She gazed at her work sweetly. “It’s ah… from a song. Or, rather, a poem, since Max and Tati only set it to music. But, the song was about this man with a funny name and, let’s see if I can remember. I tried hard to memorize the thing.”

Jinkx paid less attention to the seamstress’ pulling and prodding of her limbs now, when Farrah searched her mind for her verse.

 “ _Two old chairs, and half a candle,--_

_One old jug without a handle,--_

_These were all his worldly goods:_

_In the middle of the woods,_

_These were all the worldly goods,_

_Of the Yonghy-Bonghy-Bo._ ”

Jinkx chuckled at the odd, lilting name. Farrah brightened at her reaction, and rambled on about the story. Jinkx listened intently as Farrah explained that the Bo man was old and tired of being a bachelor, so he asks his acquaintance and neighbor if she would marry him. He offers her all his material possessions, talks about how the price of food nearby is cheap, and that if she were to join him, his life would be much better.

Jinkx nodded along. The seamstress tapped her shoulder, and Jinkx looked to see the woman had collected her bag, and was telling Jinkx with her hands that she could get off the stool she’d been stood on. Jinkx nodded her thanks to the seamstress, pushed aside the stool, and joined Farrah on the couch.

The Lady continued. “So he asks her to join him, and she starts crying, saying how he’s asked her too late, that she’s already married to a fowler -- and her husband is part of a company, he clearly has more possessions than just a broken jug, a couple chairs and a candle -- but even though she has more with her husband, she still wishes she could marry the Yonghy-Bo man. She says how she can only be his friend -- her name is Jingly Jones, by the way -- and that if her husband sends her more chickens, she’ll share three with the Yonghy-Bonghy.”

“That’s nice,” commented Jinkx. She had seen many peasant dowries that consisted of a handful of chickens. “What else happened? Is that it?”

“Oh no,” answered Farrah. “The Yonghy-Bonghy-Bo goes down to the seashore and saddles up a turtle to take him to some far-off islands.”

Jinkx halted, confused. “He… you can’t… a turtle?”

Farrah laughed, the sound again like peals of Christmas bells. “The story isn’t real of course, just by the names!”

Jinkx nodded, understanding that she wasn’t meant to understand. This was likely a children’s story. Sometimes such stories do not make sense. But The Bo man and the Jingly woman seemed to have such adult problems. It was odd that such a story would be so childish. Mounting a turtle for all sakes!

Meanwhile, Farrah pointed out her embroidery. Just now she had been working on adding a modest-looking chair to one corner of a kerchief -- one of the Yonghy-Bonghy-Bo’s four possessions. Farrah pointed out how she had already completed a short candle in another corner.

“Anyhow,” Farrah said airily, tucking her work away. “Seamstress Michaels finished with the measuring, I’m meant to take you into the tearoom now.”

Jinkx followed by Farrah’s side, but did not want to travel in silence as she did with other servants. Normally, in the halls, she wasn’t meant to be heard, but surely she could now? With Lady Farrah? Jinkx cleared her throat. “Farrah, do you enjoy needlework?”

Farrah straightened some of the lace around her sleeve. “I’m not a fan of reading like some of the others, even poetry,” she said. “I like to hear the stories when Max or Vi reads aloud, but I can hardly make the words take on pictures when I read them myself.” Suddenly, she straightened up, looking intently at Jinkx, her face reddening. “I’m not thick!” she defended. “And I’ve had many tutors. I just, I can’t--”

Farrah cut herself off. Jinkx rested her open palm on the frustrated girl’s shoulder. “Not everyone will be good at everything,” she said. “I believe there’s a psalm about that, but I never had a talent for blind memorization.”

Farrah chuckled a little. Her frame found ease and her face faded back to pink.

***

The tea room had been redone recently; Violet had all the furnishings procured in the most current style. There was a good deal of pastel colors around: wallpapers with simple patterns, a modest but well-crafted tea table, a main three-man (two woman) couch in baby pink with Egyptian brocade in burnt orange, and three individual seats to match style. Against the far side of the room were extra dining-style chairs should extra company necesitate their use.

Upon entering, Farrah broke from Jinkx to take a seat next to Tatianna. The two sat off to Violet’s left side. The place next to the princess-duchess on the two-person chaise rested empty, waiting for Jinkx. Her heart fluttered. How strange it still felt to have a seat with proper Ladies, and on a princesses’ right hand! Such events made Jinkx feel as if she walked into someone else’s fantasy. Never in her youth had she imagined such a place for herself, yet here she was.

Jinkx let Violet serve her a cup of tea. Once Jinkx had hers in hand for a whiff of the bitter aroma, Violet asked if she would like cream or sugar. Jinkx felt fear in her guts. “Just milk, if you please.”

Violet reached for one of the china pourers. “There is cream.” She pointed. “You don’t need to spare the finer things,” said Violet smiling. “We haven’t started yet.”

Jinkx relaxed “Yes, then.” With all the fine furnishings and the Ladies dressed nicely -- Violet out of her dressing gown for the first time in days -- the midwife felt the push to put on an air.

Violet poured thick cream for Jinkx, stuck a stirring spoon on Jinkx’ saucer, then sent the tray off to her left. Tatianna took the tray and poured for Farrah, who dumped three cubes of sugar and a dollop of cream into her cup. Jinkx must have been staring awkwardly, because Farrah blushed as she stirred her tea together. “I’m not a lover of Indian black tea.”

 “Is that what this is?” Jinkx brought her cup in front of her lips. “I’ve only ever had green.” She took her first sip and found her face seizing on her right side.

Tatianna and Violet tittered laughter in harmony. Tati passed the tray back to Violet. “More cream?”

With tea commenced, Violet asked Jinkx how the fitting went.

Jinkx scoffed. “I shan’t like to do that again.”

A murmur of laughter rippled through the ladies present.

“I remember my first fitting.” Tatianna crossed her ankles to the side of her chair. “I sent my elbow right into the ribs of that woman.”

 Violet laughed silently, her face wrinkling at the memory. “I had to ply the seamstress with gin to get her back into the room.” Violet squealed through her giggles. “And I had to hold Tati’s hands firm enough to ensure she wouldn’t go assaulting the woman again.”

“Why not get another seamstress?” Farrah giggled.

“Because,” Violet sighed in an effort to catch her breath. “There was no certainty Lady Tati wouldn’t offend any other professional.” Jinkx couldn’t hold back a chuckle.

Tatianna held her head high. “I regret nothing,” she said, holding her teacup in the manner of a toast.

After a while of chatting over refreshments, the door opened again and Lady Naomi entered, her arms leaden with bound scrapbooks. Violet bade her lady over, taking the album into her lap, and thanked her. Farrah jumped up to grab a chair for their guest while Tati poured tea for her.

Violet opened the album to reveal it full of fashion prints, magazine cutouts and photographs of models in gallant outfits. “My thought is, since the seamstress needs to know in advance, today we could look at some styles you might like for your Coming-out.”

“Keep in mind, my dress is going to be wide, the old style. None of you are allowed crinolines.” Tati grabbed a scone and dipped it into her tea. “Oh, and by the way, etiquette lesson number one: don’t do this.”

Jinkx chuckled watching Tati wipe tea from the sides of her mouth with the back of her hand. “I’d never seen proper Ladies dunk their biscuits, so I suspected it was… improper.”

“Surely is,” agreed Naomi, who followed suit, tearing a bun in two so she could soak the inside of the pastry in her tea.

Violet leaned closer to Jinkx, placing the scrapbook between them. She flipped through pages of women in wide skirts, explaining that was the style Tatianna favored, and so Jinkx would be donning a crinolette along with Violet and the other ladies.

Jinkx pressed her lips into a hard line. “These skirts…” she said quietly. “The… crinolette, you called it? They certainly have…”

“Distended backsides?” Naomi prompted.

Jinkx giggled, blushing.

Violet laid her hand over one of the illustrations. “I know it’s not as modest or true to form as you’d like, but it _is_ what everyone else will be wearing, and I won’t have you ostracized by petty, judgemental autocrats.”

The way Violet spoke out of genuine care for Jinkx reminded her why she was doing this, this foray into high society. She let Naomi guide her through what not to wear, and followed Violet’s suppositions of simpler styles that might be more Jinkx’ personality. “Because there’s nothing worse at a ball than a quiet girl in a loud dress,” Violet quipped.

After much deliberation, Jinkx and her stylists ended up stuck between two designs. One, with three plaits on the back that Jinkx found more modest than the popular ruffled type, though she took issue with the sheer number of bows on the skirt. The other, Jinkx liked because of braided fabric decoration and simpler ruffles, but she detested the dress’ Chinese balloon sleeves.

“I can tell Mrs Michaels what to piece together from the two. I’ve had her hodge-podge designs before for me and the other Ladies. She’s an excellent seamstress. I brought her with me from Bavaria -- she’s French by birth, really the best I’ve come across.”

Jinkx couldn’t shake her unease. The woman who had taken her measurements didn’t strike her as a master of any craft other than having the gruff candor of a cranky nun.

~~~

Violet clasped Jinkx’ hand in hers, linking their fingers together securely. Having finished Tea, Violet said they would be joining Jaidynn and Max in the ballroom, which Jinkx knew would be a good walk away. As Naomi, Farrah and Tati lagged behind, Jinkx felt Violet’s smile brightening. The princess sent joyful looks her way every other moment, and it set off a girlish fluttering in her belly. Jinkx squeezed Violet’s hand and glanced behind them; the others were a good ten meters back, talking to one of the chambermaids. Jinkx thought she might recognize the woman had she looked closer.

But, satisfied with their privacy, Jinkx slowed her step and leaned closer to Violet. “How are you feeling?” she asked in a low voice.

Violet curled her other hand around Jinkx’. “Mostly healed, I barely notice anymore.” Their eyes met. “But I don’t think I’m in condition to receive any treatments yet.”

Jinkx nodded seriously. “What about the next time he wants to visit you in bed?”

“If I’m not comfortable yet, I’ll decline,” she answered simply. “The Duke does have basic respect, if nothing else. He accepts a ‘no’.” Violet swept her one strategically loose curl behind her ear. “How’s your daughter?”

Jinkx flattened her skirts. “Doing quite well, actually, thank you for asking.”

“And your son?” asked Violet. “You also have a son, Am I remembering correctly?”

“Yes,” said Jinkx. “He is hungry frequently, which, he’s a growing boy, so I am not surprised.” She squeezed Violet’s hand. “But after you gave me that advance, I now have the funds to actually feed his growth spurts, instead of putting him to bed hungry.”

Violet scoffed. “The amount of decadence I’ve seen in my life, it’s a crime any child has to go to bed hungry. And, speaking of decadence...”

Violet led Jinkx around a corner to a few wide gilded doors. Jinkx’ breath hitched.

Jinkx found herself pulled to the side of the alcove. “What is it? What’s wrong?”

Jinkx blushed. “It— I’ve just,” she looked away. How could she tell Violet she had never gone through the ballroom’s main entrance?

Violet’s fingers pressed against the bottom of Jinkx’ jaw. She guided Jinkx’ face, their chins suddenly close. They breathed in each other’s breaths. Jinkx’ breathing sped; she flung her hand out to steady herself on the wall. Her eyes searched the corridor— the others would be coming any second! It was one thing in the dead of night…

Violet pulled her hand back, leaning her head slightly farther away. Jinkx knew if she needed — wanted — she could run. Still, she stayed, backed against a wall outside a fancy ballroom with a beautiful woman.

“What are you afraid of?”

“The others…” Jinkx whispered.

“All servants have been told to keep away for the afternoon.” Violet cast a glance down either side of the corridor. “And the Ladies know better.”

Jinkx felt her fears ease, even though she didn't quite understand what Violet meant by ‘the ladies know better’. She found her hand reaching toward Violet’s waist, ghosting over the wide ribbon that held the princess’ fantastic shape in her dressing gown.

Violet’s long, delicate fingers curled over Jinkx’ wandering hand. “Now that you know it’s safe,” she breathed. “What would you like to do?”

Jinkx breathed hard, staring at Violet’s playfully smirking lips. Her hand curled forward, taking hold of the princesses slender waist. After that, it was gravity as her lips found Violet’s. Gravity that pulled Violet’s arms around Jinkx’ neck, her cool hand clutching Jinkx’ jaw. It was heaven, and it lasted only a brief moment, before Violet pulled away.

Jinkx panted and gazed at Violet with longing. Her Highness wiped a small stain from Jinkx’ mouth with her finger before placing both her hands on Jinkx’ waist. “We can revisit the subject this evening,” said Violet in a low voice. She curled her hand around one of the ornate door handles. “But just now, your first dance lesson is about to begin.”

With that, Violet pulled on the handle and the heavily ornamented door to the ballroom swung half open. Jinkx leant her strength into it, and for the first time she caught a glimpse of how the sparkling hall was meant to be seen.

~~~~~

The ballroom stunned Jinkx at first. Violet passed her to meet with the others congregated in the center of the room while Jinkx gawked. She craned her neck to get a look at the ceiling — gilded and covered in curling design of cherubs and animals the like of which Jinkx hadn’t seen before. Oh, and the chandelier! Jinkx had stolen glances at the fixture before, but never allowed herself… servants look down, never up, unless to clean bannisters. 

Across the room, one of the ladies leaned over to whisper “Why is she staring at the ceiling?”

Jinkx blushed and came back to herself. But Violet, a few steps ahead, grinned. “I appreciate a woman who appreciates beauty.”

Jinkx blushed even harder and hid her face. She was warm and excited from Violet’s words just now, and her promise outside. Standing in such an elegant place, surrounded by high class women, Jinkx realized she felt at ease. It was odd — went against everything she thought she knew about how the world worked. Servants didn’t learn court dances.

And yet.

Violet reached out her hand and Jinkx joined Her Highness to face Jaidynn and Max in the center of the ballroom. And Jinkx realized that she hadn’t looked at the other ladies until now, because her jaw _dropped_.

“What’s the matter?” asked Max. “You’ve never seen a woman in trousers before?”

Jinkx’ hand clapped over her mouth. Max, Lady Max, was in men’s trousers and a mens dress coat! Her hair was swept up in a way Jinkx had never seen before; a few shellacked curls hung over her forehead. And Jaidynn! While she was in appropriate dress, her skirts were drawn all the way up, to her knees! Jinkx had never seen a woman’s legs so bare when there wasn’t a birth happening. “Forgive me, I—“ she choked.

“You’re going to learn to waltz today, Ginevra,” said Lady Jaidynn. “To learn the dance, you’ll have to observe my feet clearly.”

Jinkx coughed. She felt shaky. “Of course, of, of course you’re r- ri—“ she cut herself off and swallowed. “I understand.”

“And a court waltz is led by a man,” said Max. “Always. The costume’s function is twofold: dance with a woman you can pretend is a man, and I’m not wearing any skirts that could muddle the steps.”

Violet's hand found Jinkx’ back, steadying her. She took effort to breathe. “Of course.”

Max placed one hand on Jaidynn low back, and Jaidynn took hold of Max’ waist. The pair’s free hands clasped together in a way that looked familiar to Jinkx as a form taken for court dances she’d seen in this room before. Jinkx startled when suddenly someone was playing piano -- oh yes, off to the side, Naomi sat tall and erect at the head of an intricate and ornate grand piano. She hadn’t noticed the instrument before as being separate from the intricate walls and ceiling. The Lady Naomi played a set piece from memory, the sound familiar to Jinkx, having heard waltz music played in the hall many times before.

Jinkx kept Violet’s hand in hers and watched the pair intently. Their movements were synchronized -- they moved as if they were puppets, pulled by the same master. Under her breath, Violet hummed a few bars of music that fit the rhythm of their steps perfectly. Her Highness even got Jinkx to sway in time. Jinkx found her gaze drifting over to Violet, thinking of that kiss, of Violet’s smooth face, of how statuesque she looked at the ball a few nights ago.

“I’m not dancing for my own good, you know,” said Max over her shoulder. A smirk played at her thin lips.

Jinkx’ face grew red. She felt Violet chuckle beside her. The princess leaned over to murmur in her midwife’s ear. “Eyes on the dancers, love.”

Jinkx suppressed a smile, dipping her chin to her chest.

“Pay attention,” said Jaidynn. “There’s a spin coming up.”

Jinkx cleared her expression and focused back on the Ladies. After a few more measured steps, Max raised her and Jaidynn's joined hands and released her partner. Jaidynn’s skirts flared out as she spun on the ball of her foot, her other leg tucked up underneath. Jinkx gawked at the elegance of the motion. No sooner had Jaidynn had one foot on the ground, by the next beat, without a stumble, she was back in Max’ arms.

They continued their measured steps for a while longer, and Jinkx found herself trying to keep up with the feet and the rhythm and how they were connected. Just as she thought she was learning to predict the steps, Max dipped Jaidynn, her head halfway to the floor. Jinkx gasped, pulling her hands to her mouth in reflex. Violet chuckled beside her; she was still holding the princess’ hand. Jinkx looked away, but brought Violet’s hand to her lips. She felt Violet soften, and suspected she was being stared at, but refused to acknowledge it. Instead, Jinkx refocused on Jaidynn’s feet.

Naomi ended the music and the pair came to a stop. Max regarded Jinkx, her sharp features reminding Jinkx of stained glass. “Now it’s your turn.”

Jinkx stuttered nonsense syllables in response, but then Violet’s hand was at her lower back, guiding her forward. “It won’t be so bad,” Violet consoled in a hushed tone. “Jaidynn is an excellent teacher. And don’t let Max intimidate you. She’s quiet, but never cruel.”

As such, Jinkx swallowed hard and went to take Jaidynn’s place, trying to remember where the hands went. Max sidestepped away from her, smirking. “I’m not ready to get my toes stepped on yet,” she said. “Jaidynn will teach you the steps first.”

Jinkx found herself blushing, her head down, trying to hide. “Now, now,” chastised Max. “None of that.” The Lady came to Jinkx’ side, forcing her chin up, her shoulders back. Max lifted the front of Jinkx’ skirt, and Jinkx flinched instinctively, smacking Max’ arm.

“Easy,” Max insisted, her blue-grey eyes alight. “I’m trying to help.”

“Sorry,” Jinkx whispered, covering her face with her hands.

“Hey -- head up,” Max directed.

Jinkx cast a pleading look to Violet, who was leaning against the piano and chatting with Naomi and Jaidynn. Violet sent Jinkx a smile and a thumbs up. Max placed her foot in between Jinkx’ ankles, guiding them uncomfortably to a satisfactory distance apart.

“Chin level,” Max reminded her again.

Jinkx let out a breath. This was going to be a long afternoon.

~~~~~

Jinkx’ lids were heavy. In fact, she didn’t remember a time she had been so tired and yet so comfortable. Violet rubbed some sort of expensive hair cleaning gel into her scalp, and Jinkx relished the feeling. She was lying down in Violet’s own clawfoot bathtub, and lightly scolding herself for in the past declaring internal plumbing to be useless. It had been one of the many stipulations in Violet’s marriage agreement. The princess had demanded running water. Jinkx, the rest of the servants, and many of the masters had agreed. But now, as she lounged in a tub full of clear water, having been warmed in some kind of machine before entering the tub, Jinkx fully understood.

“I know you don’t want to hear it,” said Violet, cupping water in her hands to wet Jinkx’ auburn hair. “But you did really well today.”

Jinkx groaned softly. “My body hurts in a way it hasn’t hurt in I don’t know how long.”

Violet massaged little circles into Jinkx’ scalp, making her hum in relaxation. “Especially for a first day,” she said softly. “You actually managed the steps fairly well by the end.”

Jinkx leaned her head further into Violet’s hands. “I don’t want to hear about steps anymore today,” she said. “I don’t really want to hear about it tomorrow either, but I doubt I’ll be able to avoid it.”

Violet smiled and gave little scratches to the nape of Jinkx’ neck. “What would you like to hear about, then?”

Jinkx sighed. “Tell me something, a story from your life… I know your beliefs on royalty and the aristocracy, but…” her voice trailed off. “Tell me something nice about Court. Royalty,” Jinkx said. “Tell me a fairy tale.”

Violet went silent. She started rinsing Jinkx’ hair. Softly, she said, “Fairy tales are rare, Ginevra.”

“Please.” Jinkx turned halfway to face Violet. “Tell me anyway.”

Her face in profile, her freckles so close… it did something to Violet’s heart she couldn’t put words to. And so she acquiesced. “Well, would you like a true story? From the aristocracy? Of those with means helping those without? Or I can tell you a fairy tale from my travels. One you won’t have heard before.”

Jinkx waved her hand. “Give me a fantasy story, something with a happy ending.”

Violet nodded and rifled around in her mind for stories told around campfires in years past, with groups of people, addled by whiskey and smoke. She didn’t remember many stories in full, but she did manage to think up one story from her travels around the British Isles that Jinkx may enjoy.

~~~~~~

_The Moon is much revered in the boglands -- The Northern part of England and Scotland. So many farmers and merchants have to travel far to market, and they usually have to trek through the night. Because the boglands are unpredictable -- snarls of branches and roots upend here and there, making you lose your footing if you aren’t extremely careful -- torches don’t really protect you from all the forces seeking to trip you up and drag you down into sinking mud. The Moon, with all her bright light, is their primary protector._

_At one time, the lands were rife with little mischievous and malevolent spirits, goblins and boogeymen, agents of darkness and chaos that want to see good men brought into the marshes, half buried and half drowned in the silty earth. They became very confident in their trade, which they could only do under the cover of darkness, in the shadow of The Moon. They hated The Sun, for they could never get any victims during His reign, and they hated The Moon especially, because She was unpredictable, and created shadows that gave them hope, but her watchful eye would cast silver light upon them right as they were about to snatch up an innocent traveller._

_It came about that more and more travellers would not arrive at the market, or not make it home when they travelled through the bogs. The Moon, seeing widows and orphans and the townsfolk cry for help, decided to investigate. Knowing her light would be too much all at once, she took up her dark cloak and covered all but her pale face, and she made her descent._

_As she drew near, her light frightened the dark agents away, and they hid in their shadows, cursing her name, for they knew their recent fortunes would come to an end with The Moon taking foot on earth. But, to their wretched glee, The Moon’s feet were on land for mere moments before her cloak caught on a snag. She tried to pull her cloak free, but only became more stuck on the branches of the snare. She freed one part from one branch to find three other thorny hooks had taken hold. The Moon’s pale feet kicked and searched for even footing, but the slimy earth began to suck her down._

_Now, while she struggled, a man, a traveller, shuffled by on all fours, searching for even footing with his hands. His lamp had gone out, and he had lost his way. Immediately, The Moon flung her hood off of her head. The landscape erupted in her silver light. The boogeymen hissed, sprinting back into their hiding places.The man, waterlogged and despairing, stumbled to his feet. Too afraid to ask questions or investigate the heavenly light, he assumed an angel had lit his way, and he made his way as swiftly as he could out of the bog. Sighing in relief that the man would make his way home safely, She returned to the task of freeing herself. However, while fighting the bog around her feet and calves, all the way up to her knees, her hood crept back up her downcast head. The light around her dimmed, and the creatures of the bog again prepared to pounce upon her._

_Their chance came at last when The Moon’s hood fell completely over her face, covering the land in darkness once more. The boogeymen rejoiced and rushed over, grabbing  her cloak with gnarled hands, pulling her backward into the watery muck so that she may sink farther. One of the ghastly things jumped upon her head and held her hood over her face so she couldn’t illuminate the land  and force them to flee again. Some of the larger ill sprites called for a large stone to be pulled from the ground, large enough to use as a weight to keep her down. “A gravestone!” cackled one of the dark figures. “For we will have buried The Moon!”_

~~~~~

In this time, Violet had finished washing and rinsing Jinkx’ hair. The water had gone cold, and while Jinkx sat in the draining tub, Violet went over to the far side of the room, where a small fireplace had been warming a towel for her. Looking down upon Jinkx, Violet felt a flutter in her breast. The woman’s waterlogged hair covered her shoulders, her skin was milky white. The water level, lowering, clung to Jinkx’ skin. Being a woman of modesty, the midwife had spent most of her bath with her legs overlapping, securing the privacy of her womb even to Violet, another woman and also her lover. Still, the little patch of darkened hair eluded to what she hid, despite her.

Violet unfurled the warmed towel, one corner in each of her hands, which she spread out in invitation. Jinkx looked up at her and pinkened in her characteristic way, before slowly rising to her feet and stepping out of the tub, into the warm towel. Violet wrapped it first around Jinkx’ shoulders, letting the length of the linen fall down past her thighs.

Jinkx let out a pleased hum and buried her nose in the linen. Violet, her arms still at Jinkx’ waist, rubbed the cloth against the other’s skin to help warm her up. The midwife hummed again and resituated the towel, tucking one corner under her arm and between her legs. Wrapping the rest around her body, Jinkx allowed Violet to lead her over to the fire to help her get warm. “Thank you,” breathed Jinkx, surprisingly, for the first time. She had been too exhausted to say much before the bath, but now she seemed to be slowly waking from a pleasant sleep.

As she sat idly by the fire, Violet went and grabbed another linen to dry off some of Jinkx’ hair. As she dabbed at Jinkx’ dripping locks, Jinkx rubbed her cheek sweetly. “You didn’t finish,” she said softly.

“What?” asked Violet, trying to imagine what step she missed in washing Jinkx. She’d done the pampering so far -- there was still work to be done, but she didn’t think she’d missed anything.

“The story,” explained Jinkx. “So do the demons bury the moon?”

“Ooooooh,” Violet said. “Shall I continue?”

Jinkx’ eyes drifted closed. “Yes, please.”

~~~~~

 _The demons and boogeymen had gotten the stone, big and heavy enough to keep The Moon smothered beneath. They cackled and danced in a celebration of the end of their long-undefeated foe. They called The Moon’s Funeral, and they gathered thorned branches, poison ivy, stinking mud and ash, and they paraded around with these things to celebrate her demise. One of the more intelligent boogeymen kept close watch over the gravestone. She was strong, strong enough to make the stone vibrate, hardly enough to see. But deciding She was alive still, the demon satisfied himself with the thought that if they could make sure She stayed buried, She was as good as dead._ Perhaps she was immortal, and could never truly die _, he thought._ Or if she did, she would simply come alive again, like Horned God _. Now, to mark her resting place, so the underlings would not lose it in their idiocy, the demon took the snag The Moon had first caught herself on -- it still held a few blue-black threads upon its splintered tendrils -- and wound it into the shape of a Celtic cross. Then he called over a will-o-the-wisp to keep guard, seated above the stone, and told it to notify one of his underlings should She make progress on escaping._

  _Now time passed, and the townspeople noticed The Moon’s absence. It was the only talk of the town, how this was the longest new moon in generations. They wondered where She had gone. And in the meanwhile, the demons and boogeymen grew more confident, roaming beyond the bog, beyond the woods that had usually been their only hunting grounds. They snatched anything and anyone not protected by walls. Small children, grown men, livestock, cats, dogs, merchants with whole carts full of goods to be taken to market. The devils swallowed up everything they could, belching full skeletons onto the roads and pathways and bridges. The people cried out. They grabbed their idols and necklaces and scrolls, they pleaded to their gods and ancestors, offering their lives, their souls, their wealth, their children, to bring back The Moon and restore balance. But The Moon was buried eight feet deep in a mixture of water and earth, held down by a fifty pound stone, guarded by a cross and a wisp._

~~~~~

“I don’t think I’m liking this story.”

Violet chuckled and wrapped her arm around Jinkx’ dry shoulders. Her right side was facing the warm hearth, and her soft skin was warm in exposure. Violet sat beside Jinkx, originally to play with her damp hair, but she’d since given up such pretenses. The princess had resituated herself to be side-by-side her lover, their arms and thighs pressed together. Jinkx’ forehead was against Violet’s neck and Violet’s fingers traced designs across Jinkx’ exposed thigh. She was still in the towel, Violet not having offered her any other garment to wear.

Violet pressed a kiss to the closest bit of Jinkx she could reach with her lips, landing on the very edge of Jinkx’ eye. Her lashes tickled Violet’s lips. “It’s about to get better, I assure you.”

Jinkx shuffled further into Violet’s embrace. Violet, in turn, undid the tie on her dressing gown and opened the front of the garment to fit around Jinkx, as her towel had lost its usefulness. Jinkx chuckled, trying to wrap herself into Violet’s robe. Surprisingly enough, there was enough fabric to cover her, but now her back was flesh with Violet’s front, nothing separating them but Violet’s thin summer chemise.

“I can still see you blushing from back here,” Violet crooned playfully.

Jinkx tried to cover the sides of her face with her stringy hair, which still fell lank around her face and to her shoulders. She felt a slight itch in having her hair down for so long, but Violet’s was unpinned; thus, so was hers.

“Now, don’t hide it.” Violet swept hair from the side of Jinkx’ face and leaned around her. “A healthy blush means healthy circulation.” She winked. “The headmistress of our finishing school used to say that.”

Jinkx sighed, a smile rising to her face. “Well, I can only barely feel my feet, so I don’t know about your ‘healthy circulation.’”

“Oh, I can’t have that.” Violet immediately moved, making Jinkx shift with her. Holding out her hand, she helped Jinkx up from the stone fireplace where they had been reclining. “Follow me over to the bed. Let me get my oils. I’ll tell you the rest of the story while working on your feet.”

Jinkx looked down. Her feet were bright pink, and they ached when she stood up, more than they had hurt in the ballroom, or while she soaked in Violet’s tub. Jinkx offered a quiet, “You don’t need to.”

The princess held up her hand in silence. Her strong fingers began massaging the muscles and tendons of Jinkx’ feet and she resumed her story.

~~~~~

_Eventually, after many days of The Moon’s absence, a man in a tavern sat ramrod straight. He had remembered all at once how he made it home on his last trek through the bog. He had pushed from his mind the overpowering, otherworldly way the bog lit up, revealing the way which he had lost. Knowing this, he pieced together that the night of his experience was the last sighting of The Moon._

_Without anyone else to turn to, the man went to the town wise-woman, who had turned away crowds of upset villagers, declaring her powers derived from the moon, and thus she was without her Sight._ But surely her wits were about her, _thought the man. He left the tavern and made his way to the old woman’s cottage._

_When he arrived he was not welcomed, for the woman had been harassed day and night by townsfolk. But when he told her what he had seen, the woman grabbed her walking stick and boots. She walked out the door, expecting him to follow. Confused, the man balked. But the old woman said, “I thought it was so, but I could search the whole of the earth myself and not find Her. Come along, boy, you are needed.”_

_So the man followed the old woman into the bog, going down the path in broad daylight. Every hundred or so meters, she would ask him if this was where he left the path. The man always said he did not think so, but he wondered how he was supposed to recall where exactly he was when he made his mad flight out of the bog. The Sun sank in the sky and the old woman grew irritated. Just as she was about to spin around and chastise him, she caught sight of a deep blue pop of light through the mist. She halted, her face falling. Her companion asked what was the matter, and she wordlessly lifted a stubby finger in the direction of the Wisp._

_“A will-o-the-wisp,” said the man. “Even_ I _have seen these before. Woman, what has you struck so dumb?”_

 _“_ Under _the Wisp, you stupid boy.” Her mouth barely moved._

_The man looked below the floating blue light, and at first, noticed nothing strange. However, taking a step closer to the Wisp, the man gasped aloud in shock. For the blue flame was sat atop a Celtic cross, painstakingly woven out of thorny branches. Looking even closer, the stone the cross and the wisp perched atop of, was shaped eerily like a coffin. And further, the grove he and the old woman and the wisp stood in, was the very grove he had stumbled into the night The Moon disappeared! This had to be where the Evil Things had hidden her away!_

_The man moved to fetch the townspeople, for the stone was large and would need many men to move it. The old woman stopped him, however, pointing to the colorful sky above. “Soon the evil things will rise up. We do not have time to rally the militiamen,” she said. When asked what she proposed they do, she said for him to carefully evade the wisp, but wade into the peat and prepare to remove the woven symbol when she distracted the guardian. She used spark rocks and powder, which was enough to draw the interest of the Wisp, for Wisps are simple beings that do as they please, unless compelled by a strong, frightening enough force._

_Now that the old wise woman had drawn away the wisp, the man grabbed the cross and cast it away into the deep end of the pool. Seeing this, the old wise woman grabbed her moonstone amulet which hung about her neck and prayed to her Lady, The Moon._ You are free _, she cried out in her soul._ Shatter your gravestone, you are free _._

_The Moon heard this, and having stored up her energy for weeks, blasted through her gravestone with a sound like thunder. Looking down into the pit, the man and old woman saw for a fraction of a second, a face more beautiful than any man or woman living on the earth. And She leapt up into the sky, but not before planting a kiss on the man’s jaw by his ear, and upon the wise woman’s brow. And she said in a voice like the wind whispering through trees, “My eternal gratitude to you both. I shall never forget all you have done for me.”_

_In the blink of an eye, The Moon was gone from before them, her grave filled in with water, fractions of the stone that had held her down sank into the peat, never to be seen again. They cast their faces to the starry dome above and rejoiced at the sight of The Moon, returned to her rightful throne in the sky. And it is said She shone brighter than ever before, so strong and full that her silver gaze banished all the evil from the bogs forever._

~~~~~

“And that’s the end?” Jinkx said softly, her lids falling heavily over her eyes. She gave a little yawn. “I like it… what becomes of the man and the old woman?”

Violet wiped off the remnants of her massage oils on her nightdress, which she had changed into before sitting down to work on Jinkx. Despite how much she enjoyed looking at Jinkx unclothed these past few hours, she had lent the woman one of her cotton nightgowns.

The poet who’d told the story in Scotland hadn’t mentioned anything about what happened after the moon’s return, so Violet filled in the blank space with her own imagination. “I believe the man sprouted silver whiskers, a dignified beard, which had been his wish since he was a young man teased by his peers for his bare face.”

“How nice.” Jinkx sighed and tucked her hand behind her head on Violet’s pillow. “And the woman?”

Violet pulled aside her blankets and tucked herself into bed beside Jinkx, who still reclined on top of her bed coverings. Jinkx shuffled a little closer to Violet and opened her sleepy eyes only as wide as a sewing needle. The princess chuckled at the sight of her lover so drowsy and she reached for Jinkx’ free hand to curl their fingers together.

“The wise old woman returned to her cottage, knowing her Sight had come back.”  Her voice was slightly deep and gravelly from having spoken for so long telling the story. Jinkx felt a happy shiver ripple through her fatigued body. “Her moonstone beat like a heart against her breast, and the depths of her mind called for her to sleep. She knew her spirit had something to show her, and she did as she was called to do. In her dream, she was in the sky, facing The Moon as an equal. Stars surrounded them, tumbling over themselves and sparkling against the inky night. When she looked into the face of The Moon she saw adoration, and she felt warm in her soul like she’d never felt before.”

Jinkx opened her eyes, blinking away sleep. Violet, next to her, bore an expression exactly like she described of the moon. And Jinkx thought Violet’s face in the last light of day was perhaps the most lovely thing she’d ever laid eyes on. All the glittering, intricate beauty of the ballroom could not compare to the face beside her, and the expression it wore. Jinkx felt close to weeping, the feeling in her chest swole so warm and full of adoration. All she could muster was a whisper when she asked the princess… duchess… her lover: “And then?”

Violet smiled and traced her long fingers down Jinkx’ cheek. “The Moon protected her from bad dreams for the rest of her long life. While the woman slept, her spirit was brought up into the sky, where The Moon was always full, and full of love for her. They watched over the night for years to come, side by side in the sky, as companions in the night. And when the woman passed on, she felt no pain, but returned to her place at the Moon’s right hand.”

Jinkx pulled Violet’s hand to her lips, caressing Violet’s wrist with her thumb. “I am… deeply… in love with you.”

Violet’s face brightened, and she pulled Jinkx closer. Her lips peppered her lover’s face, making her smile and squirm. Eventually, Jinkx stopped her, saying regretfully, “I have to get back to my daughter and son.”

Violet sighed and pulled back, giving her lover more space to move. She played with the still-damp ends of Jinkx’ hair. “Then go,” she said, her face downcast.

“The problem is,” said Jinkx. “I’m unable to move.”

Both women fell apart giggling, and Violet suggested Jinkx rest here, now. “And when you wake in a few hours,” she said. “Return to them. And give them three times as many kisses as I gave you.”

Jinkx smiled, a different, motherly love rising inside her heart. She felt a pang for neglecting her children so much recently, but what Violet suggested seemed the  best option. “I told my daughter I’d be with them for supper today,” she sighed.

“So lunch with the children tomorrow.” Violet rested a hand on Jinkx’ hip and let her own eyes fall closed.

“That’s a very good idea.” Jinkx yawned, her body and mind agreeing on sleep for now.

“I always have good ideas.” Violet was half asleep already. Her words blended together.

Jinkx gave a single chuckle and placed her own hand on top of Violet’s against her hip. “G’night, love,” she whispered.

“Night…”

The women slept soundlessly, joined together at a hip.  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Farrah’s embroidery comes from an Edward Lear poem called “The Courtship of the Yonghy-Bonghy-Bo”.  
> Violet tells Jinkx a version of “The Buried Moon” with some details added by yours truly because it is the nature of stories like this to change in retelling.


	6. Chapter 5 teaser

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter, consisting of dress fittings, talks of style, learning to waltz and adorable Vinkx aftercare will be coming soon I promise. I've just been trying to get this fic as good as it can possibly get and since y'all have been waiting so patiently, have a teaser. I'm aiming for Christmas to be the release date. We're close I promise. But to remind you this exists...

Violet clasped Jinkx’ hand in hers, linking their fingers together securely. Having finished Tea, Violet said they would be joining Jaidynn and Max in the ballroom, which Jinkx knew would be a good walk away. As Naomi, Farrah and Tati lagged behind, Jinkx felt Violet’s smile brightening. The princess sent joyful looks her way every other moment, and it set off a girlish fluttering in her belly. Jinkx squeezed Violet’s hand and glanced behind them; the others were a good ten meters back, talking to one of the chambermaids. Jinkx thought she might recognize the woman had she looked closer.

But, satisfied with their privacy, Jinkx slowed her step and leaned closer to Violet. “How are you feeling?” she asked in a low voice.

Violet curled her other hand around Jinkx’. “Mostly healed, I barely notice anymore.” Their eyes met. “But I don’t think I’m in condition to receive any treatments yet.”

Jinkx nodded seriously. “What about the next time he wants to visit you in bed?”

“If I’m not comfortable yet, I’ll decline,” she answered simply. “The Duke does have basic respect, if nothing else. He accepts a ‘no’.” Violet swept her one strategically loose curl behind her ear. “How’s your daughter?”

Jinkx flattened her skirts. “Doing quite well, actually, thank you for asking.”

“And your son?” asked Violet. “You also have a son, Am I remembering correctly?”

“Yes,” said Jinkx. “He is hungry frequently, which, he’s a growing boy, so I am not surprised.” She squeezed Violet’s hand. “But after you gave me that advance, I now have the funds to actually feed his growth spurts, instead of putting him to bed hungry.”

Violet scoffed. “The amount of decadence I’ve seen in my life, it’s a crime any child has to go to bed hungry. And, speaking of decadence...”

Violet led Jinkx around a corner to a few wide gilded doors. Jinkx’ breath hitched.

Jinkx found herself pulled to the side of the alcove. “What is it? What’s wrong?”

Jinkx blushed. “It— I’ve just,” she looked away. How could she tell Violet she had never gone through the ballroom’s main entrance?

Violet’s fingers pressed against the bottom of Jinkx’ jaw. She guided Jinkx’ face, their chins suddenly close. They breathed in each other’s breaths. Jinkx’ breathing sped; she flung her hand out to steady herself on the wall. Her eyes searched the corridor— the others would be coming any second! It was one thing in the dead of night…

Violet pulled her hand back, leaning her head slightly farther away. Jinkx knew if she needed — wanted — she could run. Still, she stayed, backed against a wall outside a fancy ballroom with a beautiful woman.

“What are you afraid of?”

“The others…” Jinkx whispered.

“All servants have been told to keep away for the afternoon.” Violet cast a glance down either side of the corridor. “And the Ladies know better.”

Jinkx felt her fears ease, even though she didn't quite understand what Violet meant by ‘the ladies know better’. She found her hand reaching toward Violet’s waist, ghosting over the wide ribbon that held the princess’ fantastic shape in her dressing gown.

Violet’s long, delicate fingers curled over Jinkx’ wandering hand. “Now that you know it’s safe,” she breathed. “What would you like to do?”

Jinkx breathed hard, staring at Violet’s playfully smirking lips. Her hand curled forward, taking hold of the princesses slender waist. After that, it was gravity as her lips found Violet’s. Gravity that pulled Violet’s arms around Jinkx’ neck, her cool hand clutching Jinkx’ jaw. It was heaven, and it lasted only a brief moment, before Violet pulled away.

Jinkx panted and gazed at Violet with longing. Her Highness wiped a small stain from Jinkx’ mouth with her finger before placing both her hands on Jinkx’ waist. “We can revisit the subject this evening,” said Violet in a low voice. She curled her hand around one of the ornate door handles. “But just now, your first dance lesson is about to begin.”


End file.
